APRIL 2006

April 1
This morning's fog has me thinking that it will clear early, and it does. By the time we're out in the car at 10AM, the fog is a thing of the past. We drive to Lugnano for an errand, and on the way take a side trip to Dawn's to see how her building is coming. We have not seen or heard from her in months.

She's not there, but the workers are doing a wonderful job. Old stones cover the face of the house, and it looks as though they're working on the inside now. She has a marvelous scene of hills in every direction, with no modern houses to blight her view. She must be thrilled.

At home, it's a gardening day, and I start to spray the roses with denatured alcohol, soap and water to protect them from little critters. I'm aware that more than a dozen of the tomatoes look as though they're ready to burst out of their little seedling trays, so Dino helps me find thirteen larger pots, and I replant them. The replanted tomatoes are clearly in shock, so I add special seedling fertilizer and put them back upstairs in a bedroom window. By the end of the day they've completely recovered.

What is a mystery is why those thirteen sprouted so early and are so much healthier than all the others. These were planted almost as an afterthought, in tiny yoghourt cups with holes punched in the bottoms. We're more than a month away from the others being ready to plant in the ground. These will be ready in a week or two. But they won't be planted until the end of the month for sure.

April is a surprise month, with usually one or two quick frosts to shock early bloomers. We'll be cautious. Perhaps we'll move the tomatoes into the serra (greenhouse) at Easter. But for now, we 're adding special fertilizer and C-Spray twice a week to assure that they will thrive in the window.

I know, I know. I promised a planting calendar, and have not included April yet. So by the end of the weekend, I hope you'll be able to click on Our Garden Calendar and find it up to date.

The narcissi are almost all in flower, and it is warm enough to be out in shirtsleeves. I walk out to the far property, and want to just sit on the grass and hang out, but there is a lot of work to do first.

We're tying back roses on the path, I'm clipping boxwood, Dino's watering things that are not on the irrigation system, Sofi's nosing around chasing lizards. It's a really lovely day.

Sheets are lying on the little drying rack on the terrace, whipping in the breeze, and I whisk them off to make the bed. By the time I write this it's 10PM and I can't wait to get in bed to the smell of those sheets, fragrant with the fresh smells of spring.

April 2
After sleeping with two ice packs last night, I'm feeling better, with less pain in my neck and shoulder. Dino gets up before 6AM, because it's the time for the Formula 1 race from Melbourne, Australia this week. He comes back to bed when I'm getting up to tell me the race was a disaster, with only 11 drivers finishing the race. Plenty of excitement for spectators, he continues.

I don't understand the thrill of watching people hurt themselves in a dangerous auto race. The spectators remind me of Romans who couldn't wait to get into the Colosseum to watch gladiators kill each other. But Dino loves it, so I'm happy for him. I'm happy, too, that we only have a television in the kitchen. Life is so much more civil since we have not had a television in the bedroom. We both get a lot more reading done, and are not held captive by the little machine.

We walk up to mass, and there is a circle of neighbors waiting outside for Don Luca. We join them, for it is too pretty to go inside yet. He arrives on his silver motorcycle and black helmet and I try to explain Darth Vader to Elena. Any time we see Don Luca drive up to the borgo when it is not mass time, we think of Darth Vader, coming to visit the family of the dead. Yes, I know. I have an over active imagination.

Just before mass, we stop at Paola's house, to ask her to come for a visit today. We have something for her. She'll arrive before pranzo.

The group in church is very small today, for most of the villagers took the bus trip, or pilgrimaggio, to La Verna, which was one of the places where St. Francis lived, in upper Umbria. We traveled there a few years ago and it is a wonderful place. But today we'll stay at home.

After mass, we realize that we don't have the letter for Don Luca to sign, so Dino rushes ahead of me to find it, and I take my time, stopping to pinch off little yellow leaves of the Lady Hillingdon roses growing against the tall tufa wall on the path.

Dino finds the letter, and walks back toward the borgo to give it to Don Luca. Don Luca takes it and will make whatever changes he needs to and return it to us. The letter is permission for us to enter the Diocesean library in Bagnoregio to begin our research for the real San Liberato. I look forward to moving ahead on the project. I'm not so sure Tiziano likes the prospect of the work ahead as much as we do.

Today is another lovely day; so lovely, in fact, that we decide to eat tuna fish sandwiches and take pranzo outside under an umbrella at the long table on the terrace. It's magical, with only the birds to accompany us. An opera plays inside, and it is The Pearl Fishers. I love listening to opera, especially on Sunday mornings, and with the windows open and a soft breeze blowing, it's heavenly.

Paola comes by, and we present her with the two mugs I painted for her as a gift for referring us to Rosalba and Lilly. Everyone in the real estate transaction seems genuinely pleased. I think that is everyone except their aunt, who is so sad not to be able to return to the house of so many good memories. That reminds me. We really must pay her a visit soon.

After a talk with Paola about her house restoration and the people she is using to do the work, she leaves and we sit down to eat. And after we've finished, there's little time left before we drive to Orvieto to attend a concert with Candida and Franco.

We're standing on the terrace, ready to measure for the number of artichoke plants we'll be able to fit on the back wall of the raised planter bed, when I see Felice and Marsiglia and Italo leaning over the wall across from Pepe's garden. They turn to walk back to the borgo, and I am so sad. I miss Felice's almost daily walks through the garden, the click of his keys opening the front gate, his labored steps up to the terrace and his wave. And I miss him even more now, as he does not look up.

And then Marsiglia turns her head and sees me, and we both wave. The three of them walk back toward us, we open the parcheggio gate, and I rush out there with Sofi in my arms to greet them all.

We take them through the garden, and Felice's face lights up. He walks from olive tree to olive tree, rubbing his fingers at the end of the branches, looking down at the favas that he sowed several months ago. That was the last time we saw him here.

Marsiglia takes me aside and tells me how sad she is. She does not know who this man is by her side. He stays inside almost every day, and today did not even want to attend mass, although the morning was warm. Dino is not so gloomy. He tells me later that Felice recognized everything, so that is not so bad. I saw him take a look up at his bench, next to the Madonna, and wonder if he'll ever sit there again. My heart sinks.

And as we drive up to Orvieto to meet Candida and Franco, we decide that we'll bring Mario back twice a month, and otherwise will do without anyone else to tend our garden. I want a contadino from Mugnano, someone who'll love our garden and want to come and putter and give us advice and sit and talk. So until one magically appears, we'll do without for now.

The concert is a strange and wonderful dance performance, a fusion of Indian and Spanish Flamenco. You had to be there. We are mesmerized by the group; by the creator's ability to draw the three dancers together, entwined by the music and the choreography.

Afterward, we walk to a little café near their house and have a bottle of wine and snacks. We agree to take a road trip together in a month or so, and that will be fun. In the meantime, the talk is all about gardens, and their orto. Since Candida is a vegetarian, no wonder she has placed such great importance on their orto. She's planting carrots and beets and snap peas and we're genuinely impressed.

I'm missing Sofi, so we don't stay out all that long, and when we return under a cobalt blue starry sky, she's waiting for us and runs out to greet me as I wait for her near the side gate. Oh, how I love that little dog!

It's been a wonderful day. It's a really good thing to attend creative events now and then, even if I don't want to leave the property. It really is worthwhile, and Candida and Franco are a lot of fun to be around. I find myself inspired to create when I see these dancers in their elaborate costumes and the lighting and smoke billowing out creating a perfect mood.

That reminds me. When a smoke machine blew smoke across the stage at the beginning of the performance, I turned to Candida and said, "I wonder where the exit signs are." She turned to me and said, "There is just one exit door, and it is at the back."

Off and on during the concert I went through exercises of how we'd escape in a fire. It is worth considering, and I'm reminded of this because of a large accident in Bahrain this morning, where more than fifty people died on a pleasure cruise. The boat capsized and the people who died were trapped down below, unable to open the windows or doors under water.

So much for news to lull me to dreamland. No wonder I never sleep!

April 3
I can't stay in bed. The sky is clear and the fog in the valley is lifting. Today will be another beautiful day. But in an hour we're socked in by fog, so it's a good morning for a quick trip to Deruta to pick up more handmade tiles for the loggia project. We're not sure if we need a border, and I don't really want one, thinking the tiles will look just fine the way they are.

When we reach Mondo Ceramica, our new friend Francesco helps us and Dino wants me to consider a border tile, so we pick out a thin one. He also suggests I pick up a white lab coat, so I do, with their logo on the pocket. I think it reminds him of his old film lab days. Perhaps it's better than wearing an old apron. I actually like the old apron. But I'll try this for a while.

We've picked up forty more handmade 10cm square tiles, which makes fifty all together. The loggia sink project keeps getting bigger...On the way home I think we might use a wooden shelf at the top instead of a border on three sides, and that might be the best option. We'll use the border for something else.

We are looking for wooden trays to insert a few of my tiles into, and I'd like square ones. We're told there is one place in Deruta for them, and the woman's shop has no signage and is on the other side of the Superstrada. But we track her down after a few twists and turns and a few "A certo punto's" from locals. She does not have square trays, and our handmade tiles don't exactly fit. So we're to come back with a few finished handmade tiles and she'll see what she can do.

On the way back, I've been thinking. Although her shop is very special, and some of the painted frames are exquisite, I think we'll go to our friend in Amelia with four of the finished tiles and see what she can do for a frame as a tray with handles. We're starting to prepare for our table at Villa Lante in September, and this will be a good item, we think. We still don't know the date, or whether they will accept us, but Dino thinks Giuliola's daughter will get back to us soon. Speriamo.

We stop at an Autogrille for pranzo on the way back, because we cannot find a macelleria in Deruta before it's time for stores to close. Sofi is an angel waiting for us with no complaint, but she's much happier at home with her tacchino. By the time we reach Mugnano, the sky is clear, birds are singing, and we have hours ahead of us to enjoy the beautiful day.

I can't get Felice and Marsiglia out of my mind, so when Dino decides to take a nap at around 5 P M, I take Sofi for a walk to the borgo. It is silent on the way, and it is silent in the borgo, with no one around except for a worker on Annarita's building, putting up scaffolding.

When we reach Felice's, I ring the bell, but there is no answer and no key in the door. I am worried. Are they in the hospital? We walk back across the piazza and as we start to walk down the steep hill by the Orsini palazzo, there they are, slowly walking up the hill, arm in arm. They have been on a two hour (!) walk, out past the Gasperonis' house.

I put Marsiglia on my right arm, Felice on my left, and we walk back up the hill and across the piazza to their house, with Sofi following right along, as if we're Dorothy with the Tin Man and the Lion and Toto. Inside, we have a wonderful visit. I am able to speak with them and even think they understand what I am saying. And I understand about 60% of what they are saying, which is pretty good.

Before I leave, they show me that they still have the key to our front gate and garden. So I make sure that they know they are welcome. In fact, I tell them that we miss them very much and hope they'll come by often. "Our garden is always welcome to you. Come and sit. Come and walk around anytime. We really miss not having you in our garden." And I am sure that they understand.

Sofi and I practically gambol down the hill, I am so relieved. And back at home, we find Dino weeding and working in the garden. He stops to pick up my fired ceramics from Elena in Bomarzo, and comes back with half of them. The rest will be finished tomorrow and every tile looks good so far.

I've painted the first ten tiles for the loggia sink project, and there are forty left to go. The design is blue on a white background, a design I've come up with after studying very old tiles from Spain. But they are not too difficult to paint, so I'll smalto the rest on Wednesday in class and perhaps have them all done before Stefano comes to build the garden sink and re-plumb the loggia sink and tile it with these tiles. He promises to start this month. Speriamo.

Our new neighbors from Sweden come by for a surprise visit. They are here for a few weeks. We have a glass of wine in the kitchen and speak about what's been going on in their absence. We vow to get them together with Stein and Helga this weekend. Stein and Helga arrive on Friday from Norway. We also offer to lead them to OBI, the big hardware store in Viterbo, on Wednesday. Hardware stores are very important places for new homeowners. And OBI is difficult to find.

The evening ends with a clear sky and lots of stars. We have plenty to be happy about as we turn in.

April 4
Spring is really here. Last night we slept with the window open and the chattering of birds wakes me up. When I open my eyes, the sky is blue and it's a day to garden. Dino waters before breakfast and then gets in the car to do errands. He surely likes to drive as much as I enjoy being at home!

I take a walk around the property, and we have so much wild fennel! It is delicious, and I look forward to using it...where? There is also borage, with its luminous blue leaves and grey green leaves. I remember making a borage soup that was wonderful but have no idea how. The recipe was from the farmer's market in San Rafael. What a great market that is! I'll look for something on line.

With the last of the tiles to be picked up tomorrow from Elena and also class to attend, the garden sink project is ready for Stefano. We'll have to start nagging him. For although he promised to build the new structure before Pasqua, we're less than two weeks away and he's not ready to begin.

Once he begins, we'll need to try to get him to bury the plumbing work and install the tiles above the sink in the loggia as well, so he'll want those tiles subito. I'll smalto them tomorrow, or at least most of them, and those little tiles won't take as long. I have ten painted and need fifty. With Elena gone until Sunday in Paris, we won't have an oven ready for firing until next week anyway, so later this week I'll happily work on the blue and white tiles.

Today is a garden kind of day, with clear skies and mild temperature and very little wind until late afternoon. I mostly putter, and Dino works on the irrigation system. Sofi is busy, too. She's mostly a patient sort, telling the lizards she'll stand by the lavender plants and wait for each one to move. We've lost a few plants when she's become excited, but mostly she's pretty tame. Not wanting to lose any more plants, we watch her closely when she's in the middle garden. Otherwise, she does not do any damage.

I take a look at the fruit trees, and only the peach tree gives me worries. It always has leaf blight, and this year is no exception. Tomorrow we'll see what Bruno has to spray. I'm expecting it to be biologic, or I won't let Dino buy it. We also have to drive to OBI in Viterbo, so we'll see what they have to say as well.

In a search on the internet, I read to keep the fallen leaves away from the base of the tree. "When the tree is dormant, apply a Bordeaux mix, made from copper and oil, or a commercial fungicide to kill overwintering spores", it says, so I'll add that to the planting calendar. Let's see what the locals say to use.

We hear from the hotel in Ponza, and they'll allow Sofi, so we won't leave her in Rome with Valerie. It will be fun to have her with us, and when we look at a coffee table book that Michelle lends us on Ponza, I'm excited. It looks like a very interesting island, and it will be fun hiking all around for Sofi as well as for us.

I'm doing some reading in Italian, and it's not as daunting as I thought it would be. No, I don't understand all that I'm reading, but I was taught to slide my eyes over the words and get the gist of what is being said. So that helps. I'm reading some religious pamphlet sent to me in the mail from the Catholic Church, and should mail it to Don Francis. It talks about inter-faith dialogue, and he probably wrote it!

I am a person who wants to know details, so it's not like me to skim a sentence. But that is the only way to learn this language without taking formal classes. If I stop to look up each word, I don't think that will work. I'm actually enjoying reading, as long as I don't read too much at one time. Ha. No chance of that.

We're going to be advertising in the Sunday Times of London for our real estate business, but their Classified department is very difficult to reach. Hopefully, if you're in England, you'll see our ad for the next four Sundays. If you're reading this and looking for property in Italy, hopefully you've already emailed us. We're much more responsive than those folks at the Times. Really!

April 5
We think it will be a lovely day, but the wind picks up just as I'm spritzing the roses and the sky clouds over. We drive down the hill to Annika and Tord's and meet their friends here from Sweden. Then we lead the four of them to OBI in Viterbo, pick up a screen for the front door, and drive off to do some errands.

Rosario, the glass artist, may be a good artist, but he is not very reliable. We've been trying to get Bruce's elaborate glass vase repaired and he tells us it's finally finished, but we drive to meet him and he does not show up. On the phone he tells us he's coming, but an hour later we give up. This is one of those Italian crafts stories we'd like to have a good ending. We're hoping to be able to pick it up before Bruce's birthday on Sunday. But it looks doubtful.

We stop at our friends at Michellini and pick up a couple of ceanothus plants for the far property, but we're looking for very large lavender plants. Four of them will replace plants knocked around by Sofi during her lucertole hunting. The people at this vivaio love Sofi, and she loves them, loves having the whole place to sniff around.

This is the time of year that we're worried about our peach tree, with the leaves curling up as if they have ugly blisters. They tell us to use rame sulfato (copper sulfate), but after the blooms have finished. We did not remember to take care of this earlier, but hope that now that the blooms are almost spent that we can save the leaves, or at least the fruit.

We pick up the last batch of mattone from Elena, and she has done a very good job firing them, as usual. She's on her way to Paris for a week, so I have until Monday afternoon to paint away on the blue and white tiles for the loggia. I'm hopeful that the first project is finished, and that we're just waiting for Stefano to begin.

We won't know until we arrive in class later, to look at the 6 remaining tiles to be fired. The design is the focal point of the whole project, and I am nervous, especially since the last firings from class did not turn out well.

When we arrive in class, the tiles are not ready. They have not even been fired. So we tell Marco to pick them up and we'll return in two days or so to take them to another forno. He's fine with that. Dino leaves and I hear Il Pensiero, the signature song from the opera Nabucco, wafting from down the street.

Marco and I walk outside and try to find out where the sound is coming from. At the intersection, there is a group of people and a loudspeaker, talking about this weekend's national election. Puor troppo (too bad). We are hoping for a spontaneous concert.

Marco is in a chorus of some opera group, and asks me if I'd like to join. I thank him but decline. He then tells me about Carmen, the opera that will be staged in Terni this July. We will surely attend.

The other students and our teacher, Monia, arrive and each student works on his own project. I smalto (dip an underglaze) forty handmade tiles to paint at home and then Monia smaltos a large vase for me with large forceps (forbices). I will paint acanthus leaves all around it, with a design of my own, and she has me outlining the leaves first in a pale orange. It takes a long time, but I'm able to sit with her near the end of the session to begin the over-painting of the edges in green. The orange won't show later, but is there for background tone.

The vase is about ten inches tall, so should be quite interesting when it's done. Expecting it to take several weeks or more to complete in class, I've picked an elaborate design. It's a good idea to paint things in class that I need help with. Straightforward things I can pretty much complete myself. And we've determined that firing ceramics should all be done at Elena's now.

We're sitting around laughing and painting, and I understand about half of what's being said. When all of a sudden a woman I have not seen before arrives with...a toilet! It's primed in a dull white, but not fired. She wants to paint an elaborate design inside...

So Monia, with a straight face, helps her to pick a design and sits next to her, with the toilet on its side, as they take tissue paper and a carbon bag and transfer a basic design onto the unfinished inside of the porcelain fixture. Then Monia draws the outline, and the woman sits and begins to paint. Either this is an "installation", or the woman is going to use the toilet in a very upscale bathroom, or she is nuts.

We all try not to judge her. Fausto asks me what I think and I roll my eyes. Then I tell myself to be open-minded, and someone in class suggests that I paint a toilet next, after the two sink projects. I tell her that I'll paint a contadini toilet to go with our outdoor sink. Of course I am kidding. No matter how I try, I cannot make sense of painting the inside of a toilet.

We drive home and it's very cool and overcast. Friday we should have rain. And Friday is the day of Dino's colonscopia. So we're getting ready for him to have a day of eating light and drinking liquid tomorrow and then before he knows it on Friday the procedure will be done and we'll check off another medical procedure done well.

We surely believe in colonoscopies. This is Dino's third in five years. My second is not scheduled until next year. We pay attention to this procedure, and hope you will, too. It's too important a procedure to ignore for anyone over the age of 50.

April 6
We've been expecting lots of sun, but it's pretty cloudy this morning, and the clouds remain all day. There is no rain, and we feel fortunate. Our friends and family in California are so sick of rain. We've had a lot of rain this season, but for the past two weeks we've had dry weather.

Now when I walk out to spray the roses, even though it's only been a few days, I see that the little mites have attacked with vengeance. Spraying roses is a task I take on at least twice a week during the spring. It's important, and not all that difficult. But it takes paying attention, and pinching off leaves that have already been attacked.

Stefano and Luca surprise us just after 8AM. They've arrived to start the garden sink project. I can't quite believe it. But before they're done for the day, the old sink structure has been taken apart, they've begun cleaning the old marble sink with muriatic acid and tomorrow they'll work at finishing the plumbing and basic structure. Perhaps they'll even start the tile work.

So when they're through, they'll move on to the loggia. Today I work diligently to get the smaller tiles painted. Fifty have smalto, the white chalky undercoat. I've repaired any imperfections, and by bed time I've finished painting twenty-one. I also want to repaint three tiles from the bottom part of the garden sink, but unless they're done by Monday afternoon when Elena returns from Paris, they won't be ready. We're hoping she'll fire a session of my tiles right away. Then we'll be through with both projects early! I should not speak too soon...

Back to the garden sink project, it's being built from scratch, and the bases are made of red tile blocks with ridges, perhaps to hold the grout well. Both Stefano and Luca are precise and methodical workers, and it's a joy to have them around.

Dino spends most of the day getting ready for his colonscopia tomorrow at 8AM, by drinking liters of a special formula. We know the drill, and before the morning is through tomorrow, we'll be back home, after having the procedure at the hospital in Orvieto.

April 7
Oh, how I hate to get up when it's still dark outside. But today is the day for Dino's colonoscopy at the hospital in nearby Orvieto, and it's at 8AM, so before we know it he's done with the procedure and we're waiting to leave. By 10AM we're having coffee and by noon we're back at home, checking out the garden sink project, with Stefano and Luca working away in the sunshine.

Now that the procedure is over, and Dino had only one tiny polyp, we're told he won't have to have another procedure for two years. The doctor, Gabrielli, speaks English, and is quite friendly, checking in on Dino in between the patient after patient he works on like cars coming off an assembly line.

Earlier, when we waited down the hall, the same doctor entered, wearing jeans and a jean jacket, and not seeming to know where he was going. Someone directed him into our area, and when Dino later realized that this same man would do the procedure, he took a deep breath and quietly asked a few questions, like, " Are you new here?" Dino is wondering if this is the doctor's first procedure. But Gabrielli works generally in the teaching hospital in Terni and seems to be helping out our regular doctor.

Roy relaxes a little while the doctor tries to figure out the computer. Gabrielli then asks him if he wants anesthesia. This is all sounding so weird. But with a little numbing, Dino doesn't worry much about anything, nor does he remember much, other than experiencing wild hallucinations. And before he knows it, he's lying in a little anteroom on a gurney and I'm by his side.

Back at home, the garden sink project takes on a new life. The old sink has been taken down, the supports are now rubble, new mattone blocks are cemented in place and the sink is cleaned with muriatic acid and replaced. Dino finds a long piece of white marble that is quite similar in color to the grain on the marble sink and shows it to Stefano. Yes, Stefano thinks it will work, and will cut it after the rest of the job is finished as a top shelf that will also protect most of the tiles. So we won't have to buy any marble.

There is a mixup, however. After the sink has been cemented in place, Stefano tells Dino and me that the secondary faucet on the side of the sink has to be moved closer to the wall. He has already cut two tiles with center holes and I have painted them, but now Stefano does not want to use them. Later, I ask Dino if we can look at the project on our own this weekend, and see if we can move the faucet. So we'll see tomorrow.

It's not the worst thing that I'll have to paint another tile. And after the sink bases and back have been finished, the whole piece is to sit for several days to "cure" before my painted tiles are installed. So my timing is also all right for the second tile project in the loggia. By my calculations, I can finish eight tiles a day and still be finished by Monday afternoon when Elena returns from Paris. By the end of the day, I've completed twenty-four of the fifty tiles.

Stefano and Luca and Dino have also removed the sink in the loggia and turned it around so that the drain-board is nearer the side of the house, where we want it to be. Next step in the loggia project is to get Enzo Rosati in to adjust the plumbing. Then Stefano will bury all the pipes in the wall and will install the new smaller blue and white painted tiles there, too.

I'm still concerned about the six tiles that have not been fired that sit in Terni. We call Marco a couple of times, but he is not there. So Dino wants to drive there anyway, thinking we can find them. I have asked Marco to take them back from the place where they are to be fired. I don't know if he has.

But when we arrive at his ferramento (hardware store, where I also take my ceramic lessons), although Marco won't be back today, another associate helps me to find the six tiles, sitting patiently on a back shelf. They are lovely, and we move them to two trays and place them in the car. On Monday, they'll be transported to Elena. I'll have about sixty tiles, so can fill up an entire oven all by myself.

Tonight, we're watching an old Lucille Ball movie, The Long Long Trailer, and forget how funny it is. We can't find any information in the latest Leonard Maltin book we have, and call Adrian and Jed to ask them. Adrian tells us that his books are not as good anymore. Many movies have been deleted. So it takes until the closing credits to see that Marjorie Main and Keenan Wynne are also in it. It's fun to watch, even if for the umpteenth time.

Our friends Dan and Wendy have arrived in Italy and are settling in at their house in Umbertide for several months. Stein and Helga should arrive today from Norway. We'll see them tomorrow, we're sure. So we've invited Dan and Wendy for pranzo on Sunday for abaccio brodettato (Spring lamb in a special sauce), and they jump at the chance. Perhaps we'll invite Stein and Helga, too.

While we're watching the movie, the doorbell rings, and it is Maria the Sarda (from Sardinia). Earlier, Dino saw her while she returned from her walk way past Shelly's house, with a big bunch of wild asparagus. So she asks for me and stands at the gate with six fresh eggs (from this afternoon) and a bunch of fresh wild asparagus.

We invite her in, but she only comes to the terrace, and gives us an idea of how to prepare the asparagus with pasta by baking it... perhaps I'll make it tomorrow. Surely I will! Everything's fresh!

I ask her if she would mind taking me for a walk next week to show me how and where to pick wild asparagus, and she's happy to oblige. It is such a coincidence that she brought these tonight, for Dino and I saw at least five or six people along the various roadways searching for wild asparagus and spoke about it on the way home from Terni a few hours earlier. It is such a characteristic thing to see in Italy. People living in Italy surely know how to enjoy fresh food.

April 8
On this lovely day, almost everything has decided to wake up in the garden and we're wondering if we're to expect another cold snap. But we're not about to worry; instead, Dino makes a wonderful frame for the pink cloud rose in the pot in the lavender garden out of two pieces of narrow rebar, bent in the middle so the rose can grow up by attaching to four poles. Here's what it looks like.

We saw something similar yesterday in Spazio Verde, but they could not tell us where to purchase one. So after it was tested in the pot, Dino sprayed it with antiruggine (anti-rust) paint, and we guided four healthy branches to the poles.

Today, the first white peony of the season decides to blossom, but at the end of the day it closed up again. So we hope we'll have it for a while. Some of the narcissi have been blooming for a couple of weeks, so as they lose their flowers, more bulbs are going to take their place by blooming if on cue.

Now it's important to not cut back the green foliage on the spent bulbs and it's also important to give them some food for extra nourishment, getting them ready for their annual hibernation. They can sleep all summer and fall and winter and next spring we'll see them again. Speriamo.

I know we'll be tempted, because the spent foliage will look unkempt, but until about the beginning of June they'll need to rest right where they are.

Dino finishes the grooming of the rosa banksias arch, and tiny flowers are beginning to peek out. Almost every rose shows buds, with the exception of the four Peter Beales roses, which are taking their time to show any growth at all. We'll be patient.

I begin cooking for tomorrow's pranzo, and Dino picks up the abaccio (spring shoulder of lamb). On his way out of the village he stops at Stein's, and Stein tells him they'll bring salmon from their native Norway. I have a surprise: a little pot of dill in the upstairs window, just enough to complement this wonderful treat.

I paint more of the little handmade tiles for the loggia, and when I'm done there are only eight more to be painted before Monday afternoon. I'm not sure what the configuration will be, but we'll be prepared and will have a few left over for samples or to make trays. I continue to like the design very much.

April 9
It's Palm Sunday, and in Italy olive branches are used in place of the traditional palm fronds at mass. Dino picked our branches from the big tree across the street last evening. Our olive trees have been pruned, almost over-pruned I'm sorry to say, so the tree that sits on the abandoned property next to Pia's, where the old couple used to feed their chickens, has been plucked of a few branches. Augusta and Giuseppa plucked a few for themselves from this same tree on their walk in the afternoon.

Was it not so long ago that we greeted the old man and his wife twice a day at feeding time for the chicks? We surely treasured these little moments then, and we treasure them when we look back upon them now.

And then there was Gino and his wife on their old motorized cart, with her hanging off the back with both craggy hands on the old wooden boards wearing a babushka, as he struggled up the hill from their orto. After she died, he seemed to wither himself, and now he has left to join her. And we can't forget Leondina, sitting on the bench in front of her house, inviting Sofi and me in for coffee.

There is something wonderful about taking another's culture into one's heart. The surroundings, the sights and smells, the customs are all so new. The experience is almost bride-like, with an overwhelming fullness in one's heart, and the joy of forming images of new neighbors is a feeling to be treasured. The images of things, of buildings, of scenes, are imbedded in one's brain as if they are paintings, filed away in a storeroom for later use.

So although I am sad on this day thinking of them all, I am also grateful for the images, for the memories. And collecting these memories is something to dream about, something to strive for, when deciding to move to a new country. We wish this for any readers who dream about moving here.

Some weeks ago, Franco assured me that the overwhelming emotions of love last a year. "Just a year, " he counseled, "and then the feelings won't be the same". I admit that my love affair with Italy, and with this village, has lasted more than ten years. I'm not as short of breath about it all now, but I cherish it, as I cherish my love for Dino, in a different way.

During mass, while Don Luca speaks in a voice I still don't really understand, I think about how life has changed for us here. There is a nodding kind of acknowledgement and acceptance that the people of the village have for us now. We all sing the same four hymns in the same voice, as if we're a mini chorus singing Il Pensiero from the opera Nabucco. We're on the same little boat, bobbing to and fro on the same waves.

After church, Tiziano and Dino and I flank the front door, waiting for Don Luca. He looks guilty, not having finished the letter. So he promises he'll have it for us on Thursday, then leaves in his Darth Vader outfit on his silver motorcycle and zooms off to Bomarzo to officiate at the next mass.

Later, guests remark about the way the villagers have accepted us. Dino's role in the Confraternity today at mass and his position in the procession from the old church to the one we use every week is certainly a testament to that, too.

Before the procession, Marsiglia sits on the edge of a pew waiting for Don Luca's arrival, and Felice sits at the back of the church, absentmindedly entertaining himself. Marsiglia is not happy. She's stoic about her role as caregiver, but I recall not so long ago that the two showed their love for each other openly and could not wait to embrace in our presence. These days, theirs is more of a physical holding each other up kind of emotion.

So when it's time for the procession, I take Marsiglia in my right arm and Felice in my left and we slowly make our way down the four steps of the church. We walk toward the medieval tower, where Don Luca stands waiting for us with a mound of palm fronds on a table below him, surrounded by members of the Confraternity.

On the way back, as we form two rows, Tord from Sweden stands by one of the houses and takes a photo of Felice, who walks just in front of me in the procession, followed by Marsiglia. We'll have to ask for a copy of this photo. I'll remember just where I was when it was taken.

After mass, we share greetings with neighbors, and then walk home to get ready for pranzo with Stein and Helga and Danny and Wendy. Most of the meal was prepared yesterday, but it is time to begin the abaccio brodetatto, a shoulder of Spring lamb in a broth that is finished at the last minute with beaten egg yolks and lemon juice, reminiscent of the Greek egglemon soup.

We are able to eat outside, even though there are spotty clouds overhead, but the meal works out fine. Stein and Helga bring Norwegian smoked salmon that he caught last August and it is incredibly delicious, served with dark bread and lemon. Yum!

I have a headache, and it is no wonder. I drank one glass of Orvieto Classico yesterday, but the weather is changing again, so I am performing my role of barometer, with a migraine arriving in full strength. Boh! I have very little to drink, and after our guests have all left Sofi and I spend a lot of the late afternoon and evening in bed, me with an ice pack.

It's so good to have friends here, sharing stories and getting to know one another. Now that Dan and Wendy are here until July, we'll see them often, we're sure. They're in the midst of dealing with beds and kitchen furniture and where to put things. It's their turn for a real Italian adventure, and we're happy to follow along the way.

April 10
There's a buttermilk sky overhead, and it's cool. We must spray the roses, because this is the weather that the little bugs and worms love, destroying leaves and, if we're not vigilant, most of the plants. But it begins to rain and it's not a time to spray. Won't do any good.

Stefano will not be here after all, today, and now I misunderstand Dino. At least five of the tiles need smalto on one side. I finish the last eight, check all the tiles for breaks in the smalto to repair, and they're all ready for Elena's return from Paris.

First, we drive to Orvieto, for my ecographia. The office sits above the shop where we purchased our sewing machine years ago, but we can't find the entrance. Under scaffolding, it looks like the entrance to a Mussolini-styled apartment building, and that's just what it is. Half way up the stairs is a wonderful sign indicating we've found the right place. Otherwise, the location is a mystery.

Inside, there are almost no lights, and a doctor in a white lab coat sits at an office at the end of the hall, waiting for me. He examines me, and in a few minutes decides that there is nothing wrong with my bones, nothing wrong with my tendons, and possibly I need an ecographia of my neck to see if it's a disc problem. Sigh.

At least I won't need a pin. I will need massages, and Dino recommends that we contact a woman in Attigiliano who has distributed flyers for massage therapy. It's worth a try. But tomorrow we'll walk up to the doctor for a prescription for the neck exam. "For my age," this doctor tells us, "I'm doing normally." Dino can't wait to get home to a pranzo of abaccio brodettato over pappardelle noodles. So that's just what we have with a green salad and it's really, really wonderful. We have enough for another meal, so we'll be able stretch this wonder a little further.

Elena returns after 6PM, and we drive up our dozens of tiles to see if she'll fire them all right away. I'd like to learn how to stack the oven with them, so we'll see if she has time to show me. There's always so much new to learn.

She doesn't seem to want to load them in front of me, and that's all right too. We ask if she can fire them all this week, and we're hopeful they'll be done by Friday. So we'll miss the Easter deadline for Stefano to install them, but only by a day or so. Both projects will surely be done before the roses really start to bloom.

Down on the path, the Lady Hillingdon roses are already showing leaves and a profusion of yellow buds. Our Spring garden is like a symphony, with narcissus as overtures followed by the purple and white bearded iris. The dozens and dozens of round boxwood form the orchestra, creating harmony. Spring flowers twinkle and the roses begin to unfold until they're a profusion of raucous tumbling chorales. With any luck, we have the makings of a wonderfully rich and fragrant garden festival this year. This just in: Prodi has probably won the election as the next Prime Minister of Italy, so it's good bye, Berlusconi, for now. Will he do a Nixon ("You won't have me to push around anymore!" ?) I doubt it.

The Prodi victory will not mean that he takes office yet. Berlusconi will hang on as a caretaker Prime Minister until after the election next month of a new president, when Ciampi's 7-year term is up. No one expects any great changes. Berlusconi thinks there were problems with the vote counting, so refuses to concede.

In the last few days of the campaign, Silvio Berlusconi pledged to drop the ICI tax on first homes. He thought this was a big deal. Well, to tell the truth, our last ICI (property tax) bill was less than €7. That's 3.50 for me and 3.50 for Dino...No wonder Italy is in such a financial mess.

April 11
Today Don Luca is to come to bless the house. But yesterday, when arriving back home from taking tiles to Elena around 7PM, a priest who sometimes helps Don Luca drove out of the village. Perhaps Don Luca will not come today, and will send this man. We will ask him his name. We may miss the blessing, for I have an appointment with Giusy for my toes later this A M, and then we must drive to Terni to deal with the water company for Don.

It's windy, with the sun trying to come out, but I'm going to try to spray the roses, because I know this is the type of weather in which little white animali and worms love to infest our roses. I don't know if the roses get more of the soapy mixture or Sofi and I do, but I think they're better off than without anything.

Soon it's time to drive to Giusy's, and for an hour she and I speak about philosophy and spiritualism, all in Italian. Somehow we are able to communicate. God bless her. She is one patient woman. And I love these sessions with her, wishing we had them more often.

Everyone wants to speak about the election, but no one knows what to do. No one I ask in the shop knows what will happen next month when Ciampi, the Italian President's term is up. When I ask if he'll repeat for another seven years, most of the people shrug their shoulders and answer yes, they think so.

So no one wants to take responsibility, but most of the people agree that if Berlusconi would do less lining of his own pockets and the pockets of his friends and truly concentrate on improving the Italian economy, he would be a great choice. It appears that the election is so close that there will be no majority; hence, another election in the fall seems likely. With no real coalition possible, Italian politics will continue in its present quagmire. How sad.

We drive to Terni so that Dino can meet with the water people about a client's new service, but they won't talk with him in person. He can only do business with them on the telephone, so we drive home and he calls. The water is turned on for the client, and all is well.

We finish eating the abacchio for pranzo, this time over rice, and then it's time for me to walk up to the doctor to get a prescription for a neck exam. I arrive just as the doctor arrives, and only Terzo is in front of me. It is strange. When Dottoressa was here, there were lines of people waiting for her each week. Now that we have a new doctor, no one seems to want to visit with him. We think he's all right.

Since it only takes a minute, I walk up to see Marsiglia and Felice, but as I walk by Annarita's building, Stefano and Luca are walking out on the scaffolding, using it to drop debris into Stefano's truck from Lore and Alberto's third little building, which needs a new roof and new floors. It is a magazzino, right between their property and Livio and Giuliola's. I wave at them and then walk up to see our pals.

"Who's there?" Marsiglia calls out when I ring the bell. And then I walk up the steep stairs to find everything on the floor in front of the sink, and Marsiglia bent over trying to fix a water leak under the sink. She won't let me help, but thinks she's fixed it and calls out to Felice, who walks out from a dark living room, where he has been resting. I think Felice rests all day these days. It is sad. Perhaps when the weather is warmer he'll want to be outside.

I stay for a few minutes, and Marsiglia asks if we've had our house blessed. When I say no, she goes to the phone and asks her brother in law where the priest is. I tell her not to worry, that it's time for me to return home to wait for the priest. And so with big hugs all around, I walk down the stairs. Marsiglia follows me down, a crocheted wrap on her shoulders and her scuff slippers on her feet and takes me by the arm. She follows me half way across the plaza and hugs me good bye.

At home, Dino is watering, and I decide to pull up all the spring onions. There are about a dozen, and now the raised planter is empty. Tomorrow we will plant seeds, for the full moon should arrive on Thursday, and it's the best time of the month to plant. I've just taken the onions inside to wash them off when the doorbell rings, and it is the priest with Livio by his side.

Sofi rushes down the front stairs barking, followed by Dino. She loves this priest, and leads him up the stairs. He is kind of a friar, wearing a brown robe and sandals, and Sofi can't stay away from his toes. It is quite embarrassing, especially when we're all standing in the kitchen reciting the lord's prayer, and Sofi moves over to him, trying to kiss his toes.

I pick her up for the end of the blessing, and before he leaves we take the priest out to the Madonna in the garden, asking for a blessing for her. He likes the statue quite a bit, and understands that it is French, from Lourdes. And then he is finished with his blessings and we bid him farewell.

It's time to visit with Stein and Helga at their house, where Dino consults with them about a few projects he will undertake in their absence. We toast each other with a little lemoncello in lovely little carved bohemian glasses. And then it is time to say goodbye until their next trip. Helga is especially sorry that she won't be here for the bloom of the iris in Stein's garden, but we'll take photos and email them to her. They should bloom later this week. We'll miss them.

We have a rainbow right outside the kitchen window, and almost pick up the phone and call Stein, asking him to look outside his window for the pot of gold. It appears that close. And in a few minutes thunder rolls across the valley and we shut down the computer. These freak Spring storms can do a lot of danger to computers.

April 12
Today is sunny and warm, but we're off to Donatella's to re-photograph her kitchen for a possible interested client. I have time to spray a few roses but no time for the garden.

We love her house. On this sunny day, we're able to take a number of photos. The property is the Sipicciano town house, and we think it's a great buy. We're suggesting that anyone interested in it might also be interested in the little plot of land 1km away. It's an easy jog and lovely path, with the combination of a centuries old borgo property with land for an orto garden and possible Etruscan cave that can be restored into living quarters. Dino's already thinking of a design for a new kitchen there.

On the way back, we decide to take a drive up a long gravel driveway to what we think is an agritourismo, but we are in for a surprise. It is a place for meetings, weddings, and also hundreds of acres of biologic farming, where children are taught about animals and growing grain and making bread and other contadini endeavors. The grounds are beautifully maintained, with exceptional quality restoration done in every room. We'll add their link to our site soon.

Dino drops me off to make a torta for today's pranzo at Bruce and Tia's, and drives off to pick up several trays for the ceramics I'll smalto today in class. He's back in enough time to pack up Sofi and the torta and drive to Amelia. After a wonderful pranzo and tour of their really wonderful property, we're off to Terni, and class.

Four hours later, Dino picks me up and I've almost finished the tall leaf vase. It will take another session to complete, so I stop and smalto 16 more small tiles. We've agreed that we'll have five rows of eleven tiles each, so I'll paint a few extras. Elena will have our tiles finished on Friday. Dino tells Stefano the plan...that the sink must be finished by Friday, to be set for four days and then the tiles must be laid on Tuesday. The loggia project will take longer, with Enzo Rosati coming first to figure out where to move the pipes. Dino buys a new chisel and will chisel away at the intonico above the sink to prepare it for the new tiles. I've only to paint, and we're sure Elena will fire them early next week, which will be fine.

We'll have guests for cena on April 25th, which is a national holiday in Italy, and are hoping that both projects will be done by then.

It's almost a full moon, and tomorrow I'll surely plant lots of seeds. I am inspired by Tia, who does every thing in a big way. I'm impressed by her gardening prowess, as well as the complexity of all her garden projects. We think that the Montecastrilli Mercato will be on the last weekend of April, and that is when we'll purchase any other Italian tomato plants, herbs, flowers for our gardens. It's not quite warm enough to plant more than arugula and lettuce outside yet, but in two weeks we're sure the danger of any frost will have passed.

April 13
It's a garden kind of day, so let's go. We mix up a batch of sterile potting mix that we brought from the U S and Dino punches holes in many of the little yoghourt cups I've hoarded all spring. There's also a special biologic mixture to put in with all this before planting seeds, so we'll do it right this time.

Many of the little pots in the guest bedroom window are ready to go in the serra, including two long trays of tomato plants that are almost a foot high. No matter. They'll wait till we're ready for them. The rest of the plants are looking pretty puny, but I'm hopeful. We have a month to go before we must plant them, so we'll plant in stages, with these taller ones in the ground first.

I've asked Dino to make a kind of trellis for the sweet peas, which have been growing down without it. They take up a row against the back wall of the serra, and it's beginning to look like...a greenhouse! What a surprise. All against the back tufa wall I've laid out plants in pots, and the seedlings will take center stage on the counter, where they will get the most sun, and the most light. Because the door will be closed at night, with only air from a window to bring in any coolness, I'm hoping they won't have a shock. I don't think so. The weather is plenty warm enough.

We've also taken out everything in the raised orto bed, turned the soil, and today we plant five rows of lettuce (three of Dino's iceberg lettuce and two of romaine) plus a row of rugghetta (arugula). There's plenty of room for other things after we go to the Montecastrilli market at the end of the month.

There's also time to paint eleven tiles for the loggia project, and now that's done. Tomorrow we'll pick up most of the tiles, and this will be the last of them to cook. Hopefully, Stefano will arrive tomorrow to finish the sink, then we'll be able to put the tiles on early next week. The loggia project will have to wait until Enzo arrives on Saturday to check out what needs to be done.

In the meantime, Dino walks up to Rosina's to take a look at the solar panels. The panels have been leaking down, down, down through the gutters, down the side of the house and into the street. What a drag. We wonder about the length of our guarantee.

Dino leaves to drive to Tenaglie for a meeting with a contractor on behalf of a client, and I sit on the terrace painting the last tiles for the loggia project. We've decided on a fifth row of tiles and that means a top design. I'm through before it's time to change for mass, and Dino arrives in time to walk up with me.

While I paint this afternoon as the sun lowers on the horizon, I feel philosophical for some reason, thinking about life and the inevitability of death. With Good Friday upon us, I'm wondering about getting old, about what would happen if life ended for me now. And I think it will have been said that my life ended in a sweet way.

Now I see myself getting older here, just sitting here painting, and when I'm too old to paint, just sitting here on the terrace, with a walk down the street as the sun lowers in the sky during the late afternoon. We pass Donato's mother, who sits or stands by her doorway for hours each day, and I think she is at peace, waiting for her sweet son to come home.

We hear inklings of life in America and of business stories and of work life there. We can't relate to it anymore. I think I'd rather sell pencils on a street corner than deal with the pace and complexity of business. I'm just a simple woman after all, and it's simple pleasures that I seek: the opening of a peony bud, a butterfly gliding by, a lizard clinging to a tufa wall with Sofi sitting and staring at it until it moves...

The mass tonight seems like a regular mass, but at the end Don Luca and Giuliola move the altar into the sacristy and take everything away except for pots of grano on the floor, surrounding tiny lit candles. I'm sorry Don Luca did not choose to have someone wash his feet in the old Catholic tradition on Holy Thursday. The mass just ends, and Vincenzo walks down the aisle, turning to say to one of his neighbors, "What are you waiting for? It's over." And then we walk down the hill toward home.

On this night we stop at the parcheggio, then drive down to visit Annika and Tord and their beautiful daughter at the little square white house between our house and Tiziano's. We've been invited for drinks, and sit before an open fire, drinking wine and talking about local customs.

We like these new neighbors very much, and look forward to getting to know them better when they return in June. We're sure they'll get along very well with Stein and Helga, too. What wonderful neighbors these people all are, and what great additions to our little village!

We drive home under an inky sky and a very full moon, with dogs barking and the cool air making us happy we've worn warm jackets. But it's not too cold for the seedlings in the serra, and we look forward to working in the garden again tomorrow, after a trip to Orvieto to make an appointment for my neck exam.

April 14
We're awake early, just after 6 A M, and I look across the bed, out toward the West-facing window to see an egg-yolk shaped moon lowering itself over our medieval big sister town, Bomarzo. It looks like a beach ball, just after its bounce, settling down for the day. In the South-facing window, someone is burning leaves and the smoke blows east, sending signals across the Tiber. Time to get out of bed.

This morning we drive to Orvieto, and before we leave have time for breakfast and also a walk around the garden to do some boxwood clipping. I have a small rectangular tub, which works quite well to hold under each plant while I clip to pick up all the tiny clippings, and it comes in handy today.

I plunk it down at the base of each plant, leaning it ever so gently against the next one, and clip away at the tiny green leaves with a small pair of scissors to shape each one into a symmetrical round orb. Now, Sarah pooh, poo's this, thinking I should pinch each end so that there is no scissor hedge look, but in Spring the box grows fast enough that in a week it's no longer noticeable. Her pinching is just too, too for me. I want them to look wonderful, but am not about to go around pinching. Forgive me, Sarah.

Two peony bushes are in flower, one pink and one white, and the trendy iris in brown and pink are ready to pop. The wild iris has been in flower for a few weeks, and sit in vases all over the house. Outside, the purple bearded iris (what's the plural of iris?) flanks the path half way down to San Rocco.

On our far property, groupings of white bearded iris lean against the huge tufa back walls as if they were carried by armfuls and dropped "just so". The cherry tree is in flower, and their flowers appeared as if on cue, just as the narcissus at its base finished their early show.

Sweet peas sit swollen in pots around the house, ready to appear, and a few have opened early. A clump of tiny purple flowers is in bloom in the stepped up little English garden outside the living room window, but I have no idea what they are.

We're about a week away from roses beginning to flower, with the exception of the Lady Hillingdons, which began to flower a week ago. They are amazing flowers, and I think some of the stronger and older canes need to be cut back this winter. The plants are already that old.

I've checked the seedlings in the serra, and they're doing all right, with the exception of the red cabbage, which I want to explode in the raised orto in colors of rose and blue/green/grey at the end of the summer, as a cornice, or picture frame, for the rest of the orto garden. If they don't succeed, we'll pick up several in Montecastrilli at the end of the month.

I'm now wondering what we can plant in the parcheggio except geraniums, for it is so hot there in summer that almost nothing else flowers. The azaleas there are reaching the end of their season. And the white petunias we want to cascade over the balcony will be planted later this month, after the danger of frost has passed.

We make an appointment for my neck x-ray in a few weeks, and stop at a tessuti (fabric) store in Orvieto Scalo. It is a very good store, with lots of books of fabric, and we take one home, but the sample is not what we want. I am looking for the same fabric we have, a soft blue/grey and off white fairly wide stripe. We may have to travel to Rome to see what we can find there. Italians don't understand simple fabrics. Even a striped fabric has extra stripes. So we'll keep looking.

Stefano and Luca arrive late in the afternoon after a visit from Annika and Tord's daughter, Ingela. After a walk around, she leaves for her first visit to the Park of the Monsters, a 16th century tufa theme park down the road from the edge of our village. She's on her way to Turkey for six months in a job for a Swedish tour company. What an adventure she has in store for her!

Stefano and Luca finish building the basic part of the sink, and it will cure until Tuesday morning, when the painted tiles and handmade mattone and marble will be set in place. The structure looks fine.

There's time to spray a few roses, for the worms and tiny mites have tried to do their work. I pinch off a few of the leaves that have curled up and hope for the best. Most of the roses are doing well. Two of the new roses don't seem to be taking off, but we have time.

Dino takes three more tiles up to Elena to fire this weekend, for we've decided to add another row inside the bottom opening of the structure. The inside tiles will be plain white, but must be fired anyway. I guess that makes 97 tiles for this project. I'm very happy with the finished design for the top of the sink, and on Tuesday will see the result and post it on the site. I'm ready to move on.

In the loggia, Stefano will dig into the wall soon to set the tiles, but Enzo needs to do some work with the existing plumbing first. He'll be here tomorrow to at least look at the work to be done. We're probably a week or two away from being able to see that in place.

The wind picks up, but the sky is still clear, and it has been a lovely day. Tonight is the sad procession of Good Friday, and Dino will lead the procession in costume. I'll follow behind with all the women.

Dino leaves, and I follow about twenty minutes later, as the sky darkens and one by one the villagers leave their houses and silently walk up to the borgo to attend the service. Donato and his sister and brother-in-law, Otello, are just in front of me, and they stop to greet me.

Otello walks beside me, asking if Roy is already in church. And then we speak about Otello's role in the Confraternity of carrying the crucifix with the draped dome during processions. He wears a special leather brace around his back and waist to hold it, as if it were a flag. He tells me that he has done this for thirty years. Thirty years of carrying the crucifix...and I've never seen him not be in a procession.

So what will Dino's role be? Fabrizio reminded him yesterday to be early, and when he comes out of the sacristy, I see that he leads the group. Once the mass is nearly finished, Don Ciro nods to him and he gets up and walks to the door, returning with a large crucifix.

He holds it while members of the congregation file up to kiss it. And later helps carry the fallen Christ statue on a bier, as the people of the village walk down almost to our house and back in the dark, with a just past full moon in a navy sky streaked with blood red. The moon seems to sit low in the sky, as if it is at the bottom of a bowl that is the Tiber Valley.

Lights twinkle below, reflecting off the water, and the only sounds are the clicking of feet on the pavement and Don Ciro and the congregation chanting in time to the steps of the solemn procession, past Luigina's house and candles flickering against a chicken-wire window.

I sit in church with Marsiglia and Felice. She does not take the walk but he does, and she smiles broadly as he returns to us. The walk did him good. And now they are both tired and ready for bed. How old they have grown in just these few years. And how we love them, love greeting them, love seeing them.

Dino is very tired. He was prepared for tonight with a back brace, a knee brace, a calf brace, as if he's been preparing for an athletic event. How many years will he be able to be a member of this group? For now, he shows up at every event, probably for twelve or so a year.

He takes his ever-changing role seriously, and as he stands with the crucifix while we all line up to kiss the statue, I'm wondering how many people recognize his role, and that he was not born in Mugnano. No one seems to mind, and we're both honored that he has been chosen.

I wear my blue A C scarf, as does Giuseppa, but everyone else seemed to forget. I ask Rosita afterward if I did the correct thing wearing it, and she said that yes, it was the correct thing, but she forgot to wear hers. Perhaps tomorrow more people will wear their scarves.

After relaxing for a while at home, I walk up to bed with Sofi, and as the big moon stares in the window, I climb up into the bed and fall asleep almost instantly.

April 15
This is tax day in the U S, but in Italy we have a three-month extension in which to file. There's not much to do, so we'll probably file soon. Today, the emphasis is more on working with Enzo on the plumbing and finding out about how to get a ferry to Ponza for our next trip. Both tasks will take a little creative work.

Today we're invited to Alan and Wendy's, and Alan asked me to make my chocolate cake. It's so easy that I certainly will comply. With no tiles to paint, I'll work more on the seeds and clipping boxwood and spraying roses. The roses really are showing signs of leaf problems.

Although the day is clear, it is cool, and Dino spends time working on some of the old boxwood hedges, using a pitchfork around them to loosen dirt and adding food. "It's an experiment" he tells me. The hedges are looking yellowy and not very happy. Enzo does not show up, nor can Dino reach him by phone.

We drive to Alan and Wendy's house in Penna, and they have an extraordinary garden. Garden is hardly the word for it. Landscape? It is possibly more of a state of mind. This place is totally Alan. He is a man who appears frightened by nothing (with the exception of our scarecrows sitting last winter in our living room). The bigger the challenge, the more his fertile mind can sift and bend and shape the situation. This property is certainly a work of love. As I've written earlier, Australians think big, and this property is big with a capital B.

Alan loves color and variety, and there are so many varieties of flowers and plants and trees that this is a veritable botanical garden of public proportions. Large expanses of beautifully maintained lawn transcend to the pool area past violas in at least eight colors, planted symmetrically in banks, color by color. The design concept is strong, and there are defined shade areas as well as sun areas.

Views of the Tiber Valley are evident from every spot. Stairs of wood, gravel and grass mark paths above and beside the long and perfectly maintained pool. Tall, tall trees of many varieties demarcate one "room" from another.

Every plant has a precise reason for being where it is. In one area of tightly planted tiny lavender in three rows, he'll move the center row, as well as specific plants on the border rows, next winter to another part of the garden. It looks good now; it will look better next year. I have been told that lavender does not move well, and can testify to that, but have not said anything. For Alan does not worry about what people advise about his garden. He'll find a way to move them and they will be fine.

For all the professional landscapers who told him he could not design the garden in the manner he has, he has foiled each one. Experts come back and admit he is correct. He is taking tiny begonia slips from last year's plants, dried them, and will replant them into pots in an area he will make into a greenhouse. He has an orto garden, patterned after Tia's tufa-walled sections, magazine beautiful when viewed from above. He's concerned about his lettuce, but he has test soil kits, so will find a way to grow the perfect lettuce. He is an amazing man.

I think he has found paradise here. In the winter he readies the land, works along side his worker, Carlo, guides any contractors, and with a vision in his head maps out tasks to be completed by spring. He has his own mental garden calendar, much more elaborate than ours. I think he truly is a man of the soil, a man of the earth. It will take at least two people full time to manage this garden during the growing season, but nothing would be as successful without Alan's guiding hand.

Today Alan and Wendy host Tia and Bruce, Matthew, Dino and I for pranzo, and as we're driving home Dino asks if I've written about the reasons for living in Italy.

We've agreed at pranzo that the economy is terrible, the bureaucracy is somewhat impossible, it is difficult to find good workers, it is very difficult to purchase things that are so easy to purchase in the U S, but people come to live here in spite of it all. It is the sense of place, the respect for the land, the appreciation of a beautiful day, the love of a good meal with ones you care about; all these things make Italy so special.

Throw in magnificent architecture, museums, and gorgeous undulating landscapes as eye candy and good weather and it's difficult not to like. For each of us at the table today, we believe we've found paradise. Paradise is different for each of the couples. But collectively we agree that there is no country in the world, no place to live, that can compare.

Sofi gets along with all the dogs today, including Tia and Bruce's Gioia and Charlie; well, at least she puts up with them, interested more in exploring on her own than running with the others. I know she needs to socialize more. What to do? We still need to work on that.

I have a headache when we reach home, so lie down for a while, and think we'll not go to mass tonight. "It's not mandatory tonight." Dino tells me on the way home. Tomorrow, I tell myself. Tomorrow I'll come back to life.

Dino drives off to the store for last minute things, for tomorrow and Monday are both holidays. I look forward to a couple of quiet days, but who knows?

April 16
Easter morning conjures up cold Sunday mornings of my childhood, wearing spring dresses and coats not warm enough for the New England cold. Here it's a more casual affair, and no one wears a hat.

Early on this Easter morning we have showers, ending by 8 AM with sun breaking through clouds. Birds tell us to get up, and we think it will be a lovely day after all.

We walk up to the borgo for mass, and enter the church just before Marsiglia and Felice. They're not dressed for Spring, for the air is still cool. After hugs all around with neighbors who arrive, Don Luca appears in his Darth Vader suit, hair askew from the motorcycle.

Don Ciro is to be the priest today, but he is late. So I think Don Luca is "filling time" for the main act. He tells us that he has been our priest for five years, and loves Mugnano. He also speaks about Don Ciro, and tells us that of all the churches where he could officiate on this special day, he chose Mugnano, and only Mugnano.

E vero?

About five minutes later, Don Ciro arrives, quickly dresses, and delights us with the most wonderful mass, in which he sings like a joyous bird for a great deal of it. When it is time for communion, he gives each of us a wafer dipped in wine. Don Luca is right. This is an extraordinary priest. We leave the church full of joy and love.

Today I fix the saffron ricotta torte for pranzo, but also sauté green onions and a small amount of chopped prosciutto to add to it. Dino tells me it's the best one yet. We're to have cena at Matthew and Terry's tonight in Amelia, so don't have a major meal. We'd rather be out in the garden, anyway.

With the nespola (loquat) tree by the side of the house reaching the roof and obscuring some of the view of the lavender garden from our bedroom, Dino takes out the two-story ladder and cuts away a great deal of it.

What we have now is a tree that is sure to grow quickly, with sun able to penetrate most of the branches. It still looks lovely, but clearly is not as thick as it was earlier in the day. I'm not concerned, for one of these years it will be gone, replaced by a sitting room opening onto the garden, perhaps with a balcony above entered from our bedroom.

Dino and I work along side by side as Sofi chases lizards. She catches one, and I think it might be something else more ominous. I let out a yell and tell Dino, "Get her! Hurry!"

By the time he reaches her, she's let it go, and it is a lizard. She doesn't want to eat it anyway, for like most of us, it's all about the chase....

The boxwood globes grow amazingly quickly during early spring, and I'm clipping a few of the plants again, after not more than ten days. Not all of the boxwood have reached full growth, and some have slight frost damage, but generally the box look full and I'm proud of my corps de ballet, as Dino calls them.

There is growth on almost every rose, but despite my methodical spraying with denatured alcohol and soap and water, the worms seem to thrive. So it's pinch, pinch, pinch here and there to take off and throw away those leaves that have been damaged beyond repair. I put the leaves in my pocket, making sure they don't drop on the ground and throw the lot in the garbage.

While we're clearing the gravel of nespola branches, taking them to the burn pile next to San Rocco, we agree that the idea of a bocce court is probably not a good idea. By the time we're able to put one in, we probably won't be as enthused with the sport. It's not as though we're back in San Rafael with our pals, playing every week during spring.

An email comes in from Carol Podesta, telling us the weather has been rainy in San Rafael, CA, with not much bocce playing yet this season. Those were fun days, and we miss our friends. Time passes and life changes. But those are wonderful memories.

We drive to Amelia for cena, and it as if we are entering a movie set. This is one extraordinary house, with landscaping and garden to match. I love the formal Italianate style, both of house and of garden, and Matthew and Terry have done a painstaking job here. While on a tour of a few of the rooms that have been redesigned since our last visit two years ago, I commend Matthew for his respect of the provenance of the house.

We sit at a long table in the living room, with Alan and Wendy, Bruce and Tia, Matthew and Terri, their nanny, Isabel, and Tracy, a friend of Terri's from the U S. It's a fun evening, with Terri acting as a master of ceremonies, announcing each course. And of course the wine is excellent.

We're crunching on the gravel walking to the car and drinking in the cold air, arm in arm, and driving on the still to be repaired back road through Lugnano and Attigliano, reaching Mugnano as the big yellow moon watches us, partially obscured behind a dark cloud.

April 17
Perhaps Elena will have the last tiles ready for us this morning, although today is an Italian holiday, Pasquetta - the day after Easter (Pasqua), a day the Italians traditionally go on a picnic. Even after 10AM the fog obscures the village, but Dino drives to Bomarzo to see if the Pro Loco is open to buy Palio tickets and to see if she's open.

He returns to say that the Pro Loco office is not open, and that the tiles will not be ready until Wednesday. So we'll figure out what to do without the four last tiles until then. The anticipation builds. Tomorrow we will see. We've agreed that we'll set up a folding table in the path, and I'll be there like a toddler behind her lemonade stand, waiting to be asked for my treasures, one by one. They are numbered, so the process should go smoothly.

We spend the day in the garden: clipping, pulling weeds, spraying roses, shaping vibernum and teucrium plants, pulling off heads of the spent narcissus bulbs and the day passes before we know it. With an overcast sky it is cool, so we plod along.

Dino repairs and reinstalls a part of the irrigation system, checks for leaks in the garden sink and Sofi continues her watchful quest for lucertoles. Since having one in her mouth yesterday before spitting it out, we think she'll take a more distant approach.

Dino spends time with a scraper, trying to get old dirt and years of buildup off the marble sink. I walk over to him and say, "I think it's odd that you just refuse to try the muriatic acid." (This is what Stefano recommended we use to clean up the sink.) Dino's version of an explosion ensues, as he walks away silently, and I take my cue, walking in the opposite direction.

An hour later, he's in the house for pranzo, the sink is finished and looks beautiful. He's done a remarkable job. It is only later that he tells me that it is hydrochloric acid, or chlorine gas. Egad. I had no idea.

Today is a day for picnics in Italy, but usually the weather is not good. Today is no exception, although it does not really rain here. But it is a holiday, nonetheless.

I fix a spectacular salad, if I do say so myself, of cold sliced grilled meats, crunchy greens and a toasted sesame seed and peanut dressing. This is our version of a picnic.

April 18
On the past few mornings, we awoke to a fine mist, and drops on the flowers after an early morning rain. This morning it rained steadily until about 7, and as a result, Stefano calls to tell us he'll not arrive here this morning. If it clears, he'll be here later.

So what's to do? I awoke earlier worrying about all the tiles laid out on the long table in the terrace. Will they be too wet to adhere to the garden sink structure? Dino doesn't think so.

We drive to Orvieto Scalo to return a fabric sample and to pick up a roast chicken for pranzo. There's a light rain here and there, but as we drive south the sky clears and it looks better in little Mugnano.

We arrive home to find Luca on the terrace, waiting for Stefano. In about fifteen minutes Stefano arrives, and they begin to install the tiles. He finishes the right side, (19 tiles so far) including the tile for the side utility faucet, but the rain returns and while we're working Dino puts a tarp over the roof of the quasi-pergola in front of the sink. In one hour, the sky has changed from clouds to a downpour.

They can't continue, for there is just too much rain, and we hope they will return tomorrow. Sofi stays by our sides during the whole adventure, with occasional pats from Stefano and Luca, but she's wet, too, so we say goodbye for today and return to dry off in front of a fire.

In the meantime, I have discovered a mistake in my design: one particular tile is missing smalto on the left edge. It's a tile on the very front of the structure. So Stefano tells me he can work around it, and will install that tile next week. I have smalto and a tile set aside for such an emergency, so after they leave, I smalto the tile and paint it so that Dino can take it to Elena tonight.

I'm in a painting mood, so paint four of the smaller handmade tiles in a rose and ring design, to be used together on a tray. We have a concept that we're working on that will include different size trays, with wooden borders and interesting handles, and my hand-painted tiles in the center. We'll see if the woman in Amelia can make the trays for a reasonable price.

Dino returns to say that the tiles will be ready this weekend. Did I tell you that the tile installation has been very stressful? While standing back watching the tiles being laid, I pick up on each little thing that is not perfect.

Mostly I'm not happy with the earliest smalto, or undercoat, of some of the tiles. The later tiles are all fine, but I have worked on this project for so long that I'm relieved the project is almost finished. But there is a creeping doubt in my mind. Something is not right...

Enzo arrives to go over some plumbing challenges, including the solar panel leaks, a lack of water in the greenhouse (now fixed, bravo!) and an overview of the loggia sink project (burying the pipes in the wall and installing blue and white tiles). He is so sweet, interested in the tiles and taking his time to look them over and complement us.

He'll return next week with a tall, tall ladder to enable him to climb up on the roof to see what he can do about the solar panel leaks. Even though he is very difficult to understand, he is such a good man and so kind that we find a way to comprehend what he's saying.

We talk with Franco and Candida to check in on any last minute plans, and expect them to arrive tomorrow evening, almost ready for bed...We leave on Thursday morning before dawn to catch a ferry to the island of Ponza at 9AM at a seaport a little North of Naples for Dino's birthday celebration. Our plan is to leave at 5:30AM. Let's see how we do....

April 19
"Fabbrica di San Pietro" is a phrase used for a project that takes forever. I don't know how long it took to build Saint Peter's Basilica in Rome, but that is where the phrase came from. The garden sink project seems to be just such a project. The more I think about how it looks, the less I like it...I fear challenges ahead.

The sky clears early, and it will be a beautiful day. So Stefano and Luca arrive around 8:30 and I've laid out the tiles on the path near the sink. One by one, Stefano installs them, with Luca mixing whatever goes behind it, I think it's called intonaco, and me handing the tiles to Stefano and checking the results.

We're having water leak problems, with the solar panels on the roof leaking more every day, so Dino isolates the solar panels and turns off the water. Enzo can't come today, so we'll have to wait to see him until next week. In the meantime, we'll hope that the leaking is from all the rain yesterday. This is a good place to use the word, "speriamo" (we hope so).

Did I write that "speriamo" is also used by an individual to say, "I hope so"? It is so confusing, but I think Italians think they are not alone when they hope. How's that for an explanation?

It appears that four tiles need to be re-smaltoed, but they are to be plain white tiles with smalto on one edge, so Stefano can wait until next week for those, installing all the others. We have three tiles, so hope that we can find a fourth at Marco's hardware store in Terni today. If not, Dino will drive to Deruta while I'm painting in class.

Lore and Alberto arrive while Stefano is still installing the tiles, and he's worried. Lore is extremely precise, and wants to know why they are not at their house. I tell her that it has rained and rained in Mugnano, which it has.

She looks at my tiles and tells me that they are simpatico, or nice. I am sure she is being polite, and also very kind. Nice is a good description, but who wants the result of something they've created to be...nice?

Alberto's hand is bandaged, and he has had a small operation. It is a kind of carpal tunnel thing, and we joke with him that he has been lifting his wine glass too often. He likes that. But then he is such a friendly man, that he'd like the joke.

They leave with Lore turning to Stefano and Luca and saying, "Ciao, ragazzi." Luckily for them, the workers are almost finished here for today, and at around 11AM they can drive up to Lore's project to work for the rest of the day. They'll return next week to finish the other tiles and cut and install a marble shelf on top. My stomach continues to do flip-flops.

So let's talk about the marble shelf. Remember that I wrote that Dino found a wonderful rectangular piece of marble with curved edges on one side? Well, it was dirty, so he uses the acido on it this morning, and the result is scary. Yes, it is very clean. But in the process, some of the marbling disappeared. "It eats away at the surface." is what Dino tells me. It will work fine, all the same, with an interesting drift in the grain, but not the gorgeous drift it had before. There's so much to learn...

Mario calls at 2PM, wanting to come and garden. So Dino tells him he'll have to arrive before 2:30 and will walk him around to tell him what we need. Then we'll be in Terni until tonight. Let's hope he doesn't destroy anything, this well-meaning "toro" (bull), in our garden.

I've moved the blue and white tiles back in to the loggia, and opened up the package of border tiles that Dino picked up this morning from Elena. They are fine. So I am confident with my ability to smalto, or undercoat, ceramics. It has taken a year, but I know how to do it now, possibly even better than Monia, my teacher. The tiles I smalto come out uniformly well.

Now that I look at my work, I see what I would do differently. I think I've moved to the next level of proficiency, and am much more confident. Today in class, I'll paint a flowered dish to take to Carol, the Executive Director of the Italian branch of the Mediterranean Garden Society. There will be a party in Tuscany in a few weeks, along with a mini plant sale, and we'll take a few heirloom pomodori plants to sell as well as the dish.

The dish will be auctioned off to make money for the branch. I have no idea what the design will be, hoping to find something interesting in class, or I'll come up with a design myself. The plate must be finished soon in order to be ready for the party, and we're hoping Elena will still be working when we return from class, so that she can fire it.

Earlier, Stefano and Luca used wood and wire to stabilize the top row of tiles. They are to sit for a few days before they install the marble top. So next week the last tiles will be finished and installed.

We drive to Terni and I pick up a torta d'airea (raised cake plate) and Monia helps me with a design. I don't quite finish, but think I can finish next week and we'll get it fired in time for the gathering.

At home, Annika and Tord come for a glass of wine on the terrace. They'll leave for Sweden tomorrow. Then Pepe comes by with a bottle of bubbly for Dino's birthday. He and Ubik join us in the kitchen for a drink. He has lots to say about the political situation, and thinks Berlusconi would have been a better choice. He thinks Prodi will do nothing. We'll see.

We're packing and getting ready for a few days away from Mugnano. The grass has been cut, the plants are all watered, and we're ready for Dino's birthday tomorrow and a new adventure.

April 20
Today is Dino's birthday, and before dawn we've packed, dressed, and Candida and Franco pick us up to drive to Formia. There we'll take a ferry to the island of Ponza, where we'll stay until Saturday. It's barely light when we leave Mugnano.

We're early for the ferry in Formia, but not by much. It has taken more than two hours to reach the town where the ferry trip begins. An hour later, we're on our way to Ponza, for a two-and-one-half hour trip. Sofi is happy to be with us, and ready for an adventure.

The sky is partly cloudy, but when we enter the tiny port we are met by a quarter-shaped moon of a beach, its pastel houses stepping up the cove like children stomping to the tune of a marching song. It is as if their Pro Loco (Chamber of Commerce) instructed the residents, "Here is the color palate to use to paint your houses"!

A range of pale yellow, pink, periwinkle blue, peach and green is dotted occasionally by a house washed in pale terra cotta. The periwinkle blue is my favorite; the same color washing our hotel the color of the sea broken by white, white shutters rising up from the balcony floor. Our room opens to a view of the cove, with a rowboat named "Paradise" moored right outside our balcony.

We take a ride around the island, and although we think we'd have pranzo on the other side of the island, the restaurant we read about in a guide book does not look very inviting. So we walk around town and find a beautiful place called Capriccio. Food is the best we've had in recent memory, with an antipasto of agridolce eggplant cut in small cubes, under a sun-shaped fan of marinated alice. The combination of sweet and sour tastes is remarkable.

We're drinking white wine on this trip, for we eat fish, fish, fish, and all the wine is quite good.

There are a number of real estate agencies, and all are open, but the agencies only rent. Properties do not turn over in Ponza. So we think we might like to rent a place for a week, and for two couples realize it won't be expensive, especially at this time of year.

We walk around, wondering what part of Ponza we'd like to concentrate on, and find ourselves walking toward the lighthouse, with a view of the harbor and a view out to sea. It is quiet here, with most of the nighttime noise down below at the harbor itself, where our hotel is located. Fantasizing, we find a locked gate with an untended wild patch of green facing the ocean. "Here's your orto, Candida!" we tell our friend. And then we walk back down to the harbor.

After a rest at the hotel, we walk out again, and Dino and Frank are ahead of us. Candida and I tell them that we're going to rent a place next year, and if they'd like to come, they're welcome. We make an appointment with a woman to see a few places in a few hours, and while we're still there, the men take off on their own. They tell us they'll find something.

Before we know it, we're walking back toward the lighthouse, and Dino and Franco are already speaking with Angelo, a man they saw tending his garden a few minutes ago and called up to him. He owns and rents out two adjacent apartments with an incredible front terrace and view, and Candida and I arrive to find Franco and Dino negotiating with their new best friend.

From that moment on, we're telling Dino what things we'll need to bring next year. Yes, we'll bring a car. Can we drive on the island? There's a place to park just below the steps to the rental, but can we get a permit to park there? There's even a barbecue and a covered corner spot with a thatched roof reminiscent of the movie South Pacific. It couldn't be more perfect.

Here we all are on the terrace with Angelo, minus Dino, who's taking the photo. Won't we have fun! The rest of the trip takes on an added dimension.

We have dinner at our hotel, and although a well-circulated guidebook told us this is the best restaurant in town, we're sorely disappointed, both with the wine and with the food. We're all tired by this time, and after a walk under the moonlight, turn in.

Let's take a minute to talk about guidebooks...So far, we've taken the advice of two, and they've been equally mediocre. So I suppose the use of guidebooks are similar to stop signs in Italy: a suggestion, but use your own judgment. Enough said.

April 21
We've slept with the windows open, but it's been noisy. We are situated in a hotel located just across the little street from a bar that stays open well into the night. At some point the noise stops, and now it's just the sound of birds and lapping water on the beach below us that we hear at first light. I can't wait to get up and take a walk.

We take Sofi for a walk, after discovering that the handsome glass shower front leaks, the tile floor turning into a pool of water. Fa niete. The bed is comfortable.

After a leisurely walk and stops at a few shops, we eat pranzo at a restaurant recommended by a local, and it is amazing. There are only about four tables, and Mama does the cooking. The man who waits on us seems a bit lazy, but he's friendly just the same. Sofi is hungry, and we don't have food for her. But what's this? Sofi has fallen in love with...pasta!

Here's Sofi eating her first pasta.

She's sitting patiently at my feet, even though we fed her before our pranzo. I slip her a piece of spaghetti, which she actually inhales. She wags her tail, and it is so funny, that I feed her another piece, by holding the strand of pasta up in the air over her head and lowering it slowly to her mouth. She opens up and daintily sucks the strand as though she's a little vacuum cleaner. Because the pasta is served with fish, the added taste is yummy. Sofi and I both love our pranzo.

Earlier, I stopped at a jewelry shop just across the path, and asked if they pierce ears there. Most jewelry shops in Italy do this. Two men were working inside the shop with hammers, and as they were closing for pranzo, one man told me that they did not offer the service.

They must have watched us enter the restaurant, for five minutes later the other man arrived at the restaurant with plyers and a hammer, offering to pierce my ears on the spot. Candida responded, "Find me a potato!" Earlier she offered to pierce my ears using a needle and a potato. I think she was kidding, and I decide to wait for another alternative back on the mainland...

The food is good enough that we'd come back tonight, but as the day wears on we change our minds. And when it's time for cena, we eat right at the restaurant near our hotel, and have pizza this time. It's good, and we think the fish is probably wonderful. Next year...

We've tried the island's gelato, but have not found it to be very good, and see a place near the hotel that has "artignale" (made by an artisan) gelato, so that's another place to try next year.

After another moonlight walk back toward next year's place, we're all ready to turn in. All the fresh air and good walks have us ready for a good night's sleep, listening to the lapping of the gentle surf on the beach. We have been told that the island is mobbed during July and August, and Judith tells us that it's fun to sail to Ponza then, mooring three and four boats deep at the harbor.

"We never go ashore when we sail there. It's one big party!"

April 22
We hate to leave, but then there's the garden show at Villa Landriana, south of Rome, so we take a walk with Sofi early and then meet with Candida and Franco for breakfast and say goodbye to our hosts.

We're on the hydrafoil and it's fun, taking half the time of the ferry. Whoosh! As we leave the island, we take a look at the place we'll rent next April from the sea, and it looks like a cottage on a Greek island. Already, we're making a list on Dino's Palm Pilot of what we'll need to bring to make the week special. You know, hand-painted plates, tablecloths, candles, the usual stuff.

The ride to Landriana begins with a stop at Sperlunga. What a wonderful beach town! Candida and Franco walk ahead and zoom up to the top of the town on foot, while Sofi and Dino and I meander around the side of the town's cliff. We find the beach, and call our friends on the cell phone. We've found the restaurant Peter recommended, L'Angolo, and Sofi leads us on a wooden plank walkway across the sand to the restaurant.

They give her a big bowl of water and we feed her pranzo at my feet, just before Candida and Franco arrive. It's a lovely day, just warm enough to walk around without coats. I eat grilled spada (swordfish) and the others each have a seafood dish, somewhat similar to a cioppino, and quite tasty. Then it's a walk up to the borgo for artisan ice cream and a walk to the car.

We almost forgot we're going to Villa Landriana next. So Candida gets into the driver's seat of their Volvo station wagon and Dino navigates from the back seat, with Sofi riding shotgun. We arrive at the place, and although it is difficult to find, we've been there before. Dino is like a homing pigeon: he can find his way back almost anywhere, even after just one visit. I'm too busy enjoying the scenery to remember.

Since the logo of Landriana is a dog, we know Sofi will be welcomed...and she is. We split up, and an hour or so later regroup. Dino and I have only purchased one little kumquat tree to replace the one we purchased several years ago that suddenly decided to lose most of its leaves. Franco and Candida purchased several special plants, and there's room for all.

We're back home while it's still light outside. So we hug our friends goodbye and take a walk around the garden. In only a few days, we've seen many changes...all good. But most of the pomodori still lag behind the dozen or so in the serra.

It's good to be home.

April 23
I wake up early and open the window to hear birds singing in the fog. There are decisions to make, and I've been tossing the alternatives around for hours in my head. So before 7AM I'm dressed and writing down my thoughts. The sounds of Sofi and Dino dreaming nearby lull me like water gently lapping against the side of my little boat in the water. I'm determined not to sink...

I have decided to redo the painted tiles covering the bottom of the garden sink project, and to remove the top tiles and add a thin border of blue tiles between the white tiles and the marble sink. I like the basic design of the pillar and vase of flowers in the center of the top tiles, but the white of the tiles conflicts with the grey/white marble sink. What was I thinking? I knew all along that the marble sink was not quite white. So why, oh why, did I use white smalto on the tiles?

It's possible that a delineation will work, and we have the pencil-like tiles that I can smalto and paint to use as a colored border.

I am also not at all satisfied with the painted designs of the tiles on the bottom. Strangely, the base paint used later in the project is better than that done by my teacher in class on the early tiles. That gives me some reassurance that I can smalto and paint new tiles in the correct manner. But this time I need to use a broader design, or a border design, to have the tiles looks less, well, industrial.

Candida gave me advice on Saturday that really helped. "It's not a big deal to take the tiles off and repaint them if you're not happy with them." They surely are not right. And I am not content. These days, I don't even look over at the sink when I'm working in the garden, even if I am close by.

Walking through the Landriana garden show yesterday helped me with more of my decision-making. There were three exhibitors who exhibited ceramics, and when looking over their designs I came to a few conclusions: one, that there is very little money to be made painting ceramics, so it must be a labor of love; two, nothing seems to sell very well at these shows, and three, there is no reason I should exhibit at all. It's just to stressful.

So I'll paint the blue border tiles this week and take them to Elena to fire. Stefano will take off most of the tiles, re-install many of the top tiles after the border is ready, raising the structure less than an inch to accommodate this border, and when all the tiles are repainted he'll install them and finish the project.

Or so I think. Dino wants the tiles to stay. He's sure the tiles will be damaged if they're removed. He may be correct. I am not sure what to do, so will think about it for a while longer.

Late in the morning after mass, we drive to Pinzaglia for annuals for the parcheggio steps and the balcony. But this vivai (nursery) is too crowded, and as usual, the selection is not very good. Should we drive to Viterbo? Dino does not look happy.

"Let's drive to Orte Scalo for coffee." I suggest. There may even be a few flower shops open. Perhaps we'll not have to drive to Viterbo after all.

And so it is that we have coffee at the bar, pick up five peach colored geraniums for the stairs, and the owner agrees to pick up the fourteen white petunias we need to cascade from the balcony. "Come back at 6PM tomorrow" she counsels. We'll see if she can find what we need. If not, we'll find them later in the week. This is the season.

We do grocery shopping in Il Pallone, then drive back and stop to see Elena. She's doing well, and agrees to give me a lesson in making ceramic fruit. I really liked the ceramic fruit that we saw at the ceramic shop in Ponza, and Guillermo, the owner, told me that the process is easy. I like that. We pick up the last of my tiles, and drive home for pranzo and so that Dino can participate in his favorite sport...watching Formula 1 auto racing on TV.

Tia calls, and the Montecastrilli market is...today! She tells us it's too busy now, to go tomorrow morning, so we'll call Candida and Franco and tell them the date has changed and will somehow fit that into our plans. They'll have the white petunias there, too.

This Montecastrilli market is a very important part of our spring growing and planting season, but it is surprisingly early this year, and without Tia's call we would have missed it altogether. Now we can drive to Tuscania's market next weekend. There's always something to do.

Yesterday was the anniversary of my father's death. So I raise my hand and gently blow him a kiss. My parents are in my mind more these days for some reason, and I'm more aware of shadows in the midst of light.

Just now, I glance toward a kind of mesa across from us that sits looking down atop the Tiber Valley. The sky looks clear from my desk, but I think this mesa casts a long shadow across a line of trees, where I would have thought there would have been bright sun. It is really just a patch of shade from a long arm of white clouds just out of sight. And now fingers of mist sit behind the shadow. It's time to clip some boxwood and tend the roses. See you later.

There are box plants to clip, roses to inspect, grass and leaves to rake and tomatoes and hydrangeas to fertilize and water. The rosa banksia is in full bloom on the arch leading to San Rocco, and the rose arch on the front terrace is full for the first time with bunches of tiny buds of Alistar Stella Gray.

But my favorites are the Paul Lede, their flowers just coming into bloom. It is possible that the star of the show this year will be the pink cloud, a new rose growing in a big pot in the center of the lavender garden. Lucia at Michellini loves this rose, and told me it will flower all summer. There are certainly lots of large buds, but although I am hopeful the flowers will be pale and cloudlike, what I see so far is a pretty vivid pink.

This morning, two blooms from the Madame Gregory Staechlin plant open, and the bloom is very unusual...large and pale pink on top and darker rose pink on the underside. It's a big and healthy plant, stretching over the ugly wire wall between the cardi plant and the far garden. This is a decidedly good addition.

With many fava beans growing long and longer, we'll have plenty to fix for friends on Tuesday night. I have a few fava recipes, and will try at least one of them out. It's also time to make more bread, and a pork and fennel and tomato stew that I've conjured up after reading a number of diverse recipes. There will be nine of us, and I'm ready to gambol that this will turn out all right, possibly spectacularly. We'll buy the pork shoulder from Sgrina in Giove tomorrow.

We take a look at the photos of our trip, and included in them are a few of the view from the house we may rent next year. Paola tells us that Vincenza knows someone who owns a couple of rental houses in Ponza, but we think the one we found will be just fine.

I'm already thinking of cooking there, making bread in the outdoor oven, grilling fresh fish, eating salads on the terrace, drinking local wine...I told Candida that the journey, the planning of the trip, will be almost as fun as being there, and will last an entire year.

We'll be up early tomorrow to drive to Montecastrilli, so after watching a Helen Mirren/Robert Redford movie, The Hostage, we turn in. But Sofi should be whimpering soon, for the fireworks in Bomarzo in honor of their festa are starting to pop. Let's get into bed and watch them from bed through the west window.

April 24
I wake with a sore throat and a cold, but it's a beautiful day. There is a mist in the valley and soft thin clouds float by under a pale blue sky. We're out early to drive to Montecastrilli, a town located on the way to Perugia, to pick up our annual plantings.

We know the drill. Hoping to find a place just near the spot where we'll buy our plants, we drive on past the parked cars, to find the road blocked. But there is a place close by, so we walk up and pick up some of the plants we want.

The vendor who sells the aromatic herbs is not there, but he has a display of plants we'd surely like to try out. We walk around for a while, for Monday is also market day in Montecastrilli and the stalls seem to stretch for miles. But when we return he is still not there. So we drive home. Tomorrow, Dino will return to pick up white cascading petunias for our balcony. The seller we purchased our pomodori from will have them waiting for him.

At home, we putter around the garden, and I cook for tomorrow. But first it is time to pull up fava beans, and we take turns running our hands down the plants and snapping the beans. It is a wonderful experience for me, but for Dino this is just another task.

Before the night is through, I've made a pork stew that Dino rates as excellent, as well as a sautéed fava and fennel side dish. These are both for tomorrow.

Expecting that I'll not attend the Palio unless my cold improves, I get into bed just as the fireworks blast from Bomarzo. But they don't last long...Is their budget small this year? It's such a short program that Sofi sleeps right through it.

April 25
So what's Liberation Day all about? Dino tells me it's a celebration in honor of the partisans who rose up on this day to end the war in Milan in 1944. Partisans are an interesting lot; at least they seem so based upon books I have read. And I think there is some partisan in almost every Italian even today...except for the Fascists, but that is another story for another time.

Italians seem to not care about the political situation in their country, and take a dim view of the bureaucratic wranglings, although they love to talk about them. Doing something about the politics is something else altogether. So instead they use their creative wiles to finesse their way around Italian laws, shrugging their shoulders instead of making changes.

In today's paper the Prodi/Berlusconi situation is not good. It is thought to be reminiscent of the days of Andreotti, whom I read was a major thief disguised as a government leader. He served as Prime Minister at least twice, if only for a year each time.

On this day, I am feeling terrible, and spend a lot of the day in bed. We're having a number of people for cena tonight, and I find a way to fix most of the things in advance. When they arrive at 3PM so that we can all go together to the Palio in Bomarzo, I decline, and spend a few hours in bed while they are gone.

There is no clear winner at the Bomarzo Palio, as usual, and one horse and one rider are taken away by truck and ambulance. Later, the word is that both are fine. The pageantry is wonderful, as usual, and the group has a lot of fun, with Dino seeing lots of friends and neighbors to say hello to. I am sorry to miss the event, but a few hours in bed is just what I need.

The evening is a blur, but everyone seems to have a good time, and the weather is good enough that we can eat on the terrace by candlelight.

I excuse myself early and Sofi and I go up to bed.

April 26
Today I'm not much better, but in early afternoon I'm up for an hour for some rice and toast and tea. The rest of the day is spent in bed, although the sky somewhat clears and Dino drives to Viterbo to pay our road tax.

He returns to get ready for Enzo to arrive and work on the loggia sink and solar panel problems. But Enzo never arrives, so the day ends with rain and Sofi and I snoozing upstairs.

April 27
I'm tired of being sick, so we decide to drive to Formia to have pranzo at Zi'Anna and see if we can purchase some striped fabric for the loggia at a huge store we passed last week when returning from Ponza. Formia is a town where ferries take off for Ponza, and so we think it's the kind of place where "beach" and "summer" people will buy fabric.

Or at least that is what we hope. We're enticed to return because of a huge 70% sale sign on the front of the shop. If all else fails, we'll have pranzo at the restaurant that a journalist thought served him his best meal in Italy. We'll see if we agree, but based on recent recommendations we're not so sure...

The sky is mixed, with some clouds, some sun, but overall the ride is not bad. We arrive in the town in just over two hours, and find a fabric that is, well, suitable. It's not perfect, but then the choices in Italy are certainly not what they are in the U. S. The stripe is a dark blue and off-white heavy cotton fabric, suitable for outside. Since the painted tiles for the loggia are dark blue-grey and white, I am hoping the colors will work together.

I was hoping for a paler or greyer blue, but no matter. The price is excellent, so we walk around the weekly mercato and Sofi has fun meandering around. She loves to putter around in the midst of activity, and smells are heavenly to her. Her long tail bobs as she does her little waddle and we walk to the restaurant.

So we are seated a table right at the window overlooking the water, but the windows are closed and it feels a little claustrophobic. I am distracted, however, by an excellent seafood antipasto, and then spaghetti vongole (with clams), although we ordered it with cozzi (mussels). Yes, we'd come here again. But is it the best meal we've had in Italy? I'd save that honor for Il Capriccio in Ponza, for my memory is not that good. I am sure we have had other great meals, but this is a good meal just the same.

On the way back, we take a detour at Valmantone and pick up a fresh buffalo mozzarella. But there is a town on the side of a nearby hill that Dino wants to visit, so we drive up to Artena, and walk around a little. This is a really undiscovered town, with cobbles on the street, and nothing trendy around. The streets are steep and narrow, nothing is painted, and its people seem to be lost in a time at least twenty years ago.

On the way back, there is a mist over the distant hills, and the mountain of Montecassino looms dark and dreary. What a sad place. What a sad reminder of one of the saddest bouts of fighting during WWII between the Allies and the Germans. As the story goes, the exquisitely built and maintained Abbey at the top of the mountain was agreed to be off limits by both the Germans and the Allies...at first.

Then the Allies were told that the Germans were held up there, and from that vantage point could really do a lot of damage down below. So the Allies decided to "take" Montecassino. And most of the Abbey was destroyed. The Germans were not even there, hiding instead partway down the mountain.

A year or two ago, Dino and I drove to Montecassino, and much of the Abbey was restored by the Americans, I think. But it's not the same. It's difficult to look up at it without sadness.

Rain greets us off and on, but we arrive home before 6PM, and Dino plays around in the wet garden, checking on his potatoes, while Sofi and I sit inside. He's quite excited about the two batches of potatoes he's planted, and although it's getting very late in the season, he's going to plant another batch in a day or so. Remember that he's planting the potatoes all in big tubs. So they'll be easy to dig up.

I'm rather sick of the fava beans, not liking the fava and fennel sauté I fixed on Tuesday at all. There is something metalic-tasting about the favas, and when they're blanched in boiling water the water turns black.

No wonder. I think my dislike of them goes back to my school days at Derby Academy in Hingham, MA., where we were served creamed chipped beef and lima beans often for lunch. The mere thought of either of them turns my stomach even today. So we'll give the favas away, or turn them over in the compost and in the tomato fields.

We know that favas are the very best thing to use as a rotation crop for tomatoes. And the plants make us look as though we really know what we're doing when the villagers look down on our land from the little street up above. So we'll continue to plant them, just not eat them ourselves.

April 29
It's too rainy to drive to Tarquinia today for the annual mercato. So we'll stay at home and in between the raindrops I'll spray the roses against aphids and worms. I know. I know. But roses take a lot of attention, and the results are worth it.

Here's a little of what's going on in the garden, even though it's been dreary for several days...

I give up on spraying the roses. Instead, I pick off the leaves that are forming the dreaded...worms. It won't do any good to spray today. So Dino drives off to do some errands, and while he's gone he picks up some of those round pots that disintegrate after they are planted. Or at least I think they disintegrate. I want to use them to repot the pomodori seedlings.

By the time I'm through repotting and counting the number of plants, I am alarmed to discover that we have seventy. 70. I just don't know what to think, there are so many. Dino will probably want to take a table at an agri market in the middle of the summer to peddle our fabulous heirloom "fruit".

I think I'd like to stand back and see the reaction and take some photos. It might be a funny garden story to sell to the IJ or the Chron, after interviewing Italians to find out what they think. They mostly think we are crazy, until they take a taste. Sigh. I just have too many ideas.

I remember that a number of years ago, Patti Smith (then Kemp) and Joan Waters came for a visit and Joan was enamored with the mosaics of Nikki St. Phal. She convinced us to visit her fantasy garden, called Il Giardino dei Tarocchi, near Tarquinia. Now that I'm interested in coming up with an interesting project to transform the garden sink into something I can live with, I'm thinking of turning the project into something that may become art worthy.

I'm thinking of taking off all the bottom tiles, breaking them up, putting a tufa colored intonico on the base and installing a variety of mosaics and pieces of the tiles in an interesting design. I want the look to have a hint of Roman style, some classic elements, and also somewhat of a contemporary look. There is just too much white as it is, and the current style does not blend in well with the back tufa wall.

I'm just too darn busy. What's this about sitting around and enjoying the moment?

So this afternoon I've also sewn half of the new fabric for the loggia, washed it and hope that it's fine. I'll sew the two remaining smaller pieces tomorrow. In the meantime, the pomodori have been returned to their sunny window and 24-hour-a-day light. There's a hour or so left before we meet our friends for dinner, so we take a power nap and read...

Tonight we join Tia and Bruce and Wendy and Alan and some others at NonnaPappa, and I'm sorry that we won't bring Sofi, for Fidelia loves her. But she'll be happier at home tonight.

When we arrive, we see Helen and even Judith! They've come with Tia and Bruce. So there are about ten of us, and after seeing the friendly little dog Fidelio, we're sorry we did not bring Sofi. With hugs for Fidelia and her young daughter, Carlotta, we sit down for an excellent meal. Everything is good at NonnaPappa. We return home at midnight, and Sofi's ready to play. Dino watches Hotel Rwanda, and I go up to bed.

Yes, my cold has just about run its course, and I am thankful for that. Being sick is a real drag. I check on the fabric, and it has shrunk! Luckily we have enough to redo the two panels, and I'll wash the rest of the material tomorrow before doing any more sewing. Live and learn...

April 30
No fair. The month is up already, and May promises to be very busy with the garden and ceramics and parties galore. I really do want to slow down. How to do that? Take on less? Less what? I've already given up taking a booth at Villa Lante in the fall, but Spring is always busy here. And the garden is really so lovely, even with the enormous amount of rain that soaks our favorite roses.

I am feeling quite good, and after mass tell Tiziano that we have information that he can use to search on the internet in Latin about San Liberato. He'll come by later today so that we can search together.

There is no sun, and without sun the garden remains waterlogged. We wash the rest of the new material and will measure and cut the rest of it and resew it. We purchased enough even if the first two panels won't work. But after hanging the first sample up, I'm distressed. It looks like a circus tent. Just as I imagined, the color is too dark.

After a discussion, we agree that we'll take a sample of the fabric to Rita in a few days and see if she can dye it a softer blue. Dino suggests that I take a small sample and soak it in bleach to see what that will do. We have enough fabric to do a few tests, but I'm not about to cut any more from the longer piece until we figure it out. So the rest of the sewing will have to wait. Since the plumbing, hiding the pipes and installing the smaller painted tiles in the loggia has not yet taken place, the fabric sewing can wait.

While I'm sort of on a roll, meaning Dino is starting to see things my way, I suggest that we take off a row of the tiles just below the garden sink, and we take them off together. Well, he chips them off while I stand by to pick up the pieces. Many of the tiles come out intact, which means they can be reused for my tray project later.

I am formulating a design for the row of tiles, with a blue-grey color at the top, delineating the grey/white sink next to the tiles, and a more elaborate design in the middle of the tile. We'll need thirteen of them to rim the bottom of the sink.

While we're at it, Dino suggests we chip off any of the other tiles that I don't think have the correct background. That's four or five more. I'm anticipating the project will be finished mid-June, and that's all right with me. I want it to be correct, no matter the time it takes.

In addition to the remade tiles, we agree to smalto and paint the pencil shaped mattone to rim the top design. I can finish those next week, but they'll need to be cut first. So that depends on Stefano to cut them and determine where they need to be cut and then smaltoed and painted. I am beginning to have empathy with Italian craftspeople who seem to take more time completing projects than clients think they should.

Back in the house, the phone rings, and it is Catherine, asking if the men have arrived to bring up the tree from the valley for the annual village tree raising. We just about forgot, and I walk out to hear them coming up Via Mameli.

"Come right down!" I tell her. "There already here!" and Dino rushes out with the camera, while Sofi and I lock up and get her harness and lead ready.

They're already at the bus stop, with a tree about twenty two meters long. The men have stopped for drinks of local wine and a break. After about fifteen minutes, they're ready to pick up the tree again. Many of the young men are from Attigliano. The older men are from Mugnano, but there are younger men who are relatives and friends of the Mugnanese, too. And of course there are the young children, the wives, the girlfriends, the mothers and grand mothers, all standing around and watching the goings on.

Paola comes by for a hug, and it is then that she asks the significance of the light in our guest bedroom window. It's on all night, and she is concerned that she woke us up the other night when she rang the bell at 10:30.

After explaining that the light is for our pomodori seeds, she tells me that Enrico asked her the same question. So we agree that if we find him tonight we will give him the correct answer. Let's hope the pomodori are memorable enough to warrant the cost of the continual light for three months time in the window...

Back to the action: The tree is carried by about thirty men, and before they are through, the tree is jockeyed around the tornante (hairpin) bend in the road, aimed head first down into the little parking lot and three separate metal ladders are positioned underneath to move the tree up bit by bit, as these same men have done for years. And this year they remember to tie the symbolic Mugnano bandiera in red and blue near the top before hoisting it skyward.

Slowly, slowly, they move the tree. I turn around to see Felice behind me, and ask him if he used to be a part of this group. "Si, certo," he responds. Three years ago was his final year to participate, and he positioned one of the ropes that year.

Today he's in the back of the crowd, only partly recognizing the scene, but he takes my hand and squeezes it tightly, just the same. Marsiglia finds a place to sit at his side against a wall, taking in the goings on and not missing a thing.

Salvatore asks me if he can take Sofi up to the borgo a few meters away and I agree, but he brings her back a few minutes later. She sat patiently at my feet for a long while, but I know she'd be happier in my arms. Sofi now lies limply as I hold her, like a spoiled child, but is so sweet that I don't deny her this comfort.

I ask Paola what the significance is of the tree raising. She tells me it means three things: 1) The real beginning of Spring, 2) The fertility of women, and most importantly, 3) It's time to do the annual planting of the ortos.

I remember Maypoles, with children running around them with pastel ribbons as a young girl. And now I imagine people all over Italy, and all over the world, blessing the warmer weather and blessing the earth that is such an important part of everyone's lives here.

The tree is up, and Dino suggests to Francesco that he takes a group shot of the men who carried it. Here are a few photos of the event.

As soon as the tree is securely up, the group photo is taken and the men move down past the parking lot to the community hall to eat porchetta, drink wine and beer and tell stories. Dino and Sofi and I walk home. I make a delicious pizza with the buffala from the other day that is still good, and while it is in the oven, Dino readies the group photo, making copies to share. When we've finished the pizza, he walks up to the borgo.

As he enters the club where the eating is taking place, a round of applause fills the room, and he distributes the photos and sits for a glas of "red" with the men. Later, we talk about the event while we enjoy the photos. Hope you enjoy them, too.

The month of April is up, and tomorrow I'll post and a day or so later will enter the planting calendar for May. It's now almost midnight, and that means it will be time to utter, "Rabbit, rabbit!" as my first words after midnight. This is a superstition I have followed for years. Who knows if it means anything, but I imagine that when I speak these words before any others on the first day of a month, that month is a lucky one for me.

Dorme bene.

MAY 2006

May 1
It's 10 AM before we get up. What a way to begin a holiday! Today is the workers holiday in Italy, and everyone loves to celebrate.

The skies clear, and we spend most of the day in the garden. It feels good to be outside in the cool, clear air. I start to clip boxwood, but know that we need to spray the roses, so Dino fixes a new spray bottle and I work on the roses, one by one. Before I finish the front terrace, I know I have to cook. So the rest will have to wait.

I've soaked a variety of beans for minestrone overnight, so I finish making a soup and add a jar of tomatoes from last year's larder. There are also chocolate cupcakes to make from scratch. There was a recipe on the cupcake tin, and I decide to follow it.

There are also eggs, so I fix egg salad, and it's about 2PM before we sit down to eat. Everything tastes great. And now we're ready to spend the afternoon outside. It's been rainy for so long that we're anxious to see how everything is doing.

I feed the roses. I feed the hydrangeas. I feed the rhododendrons and the new kumquat bush and the lemon tree. And the rest of the time is spent working on rose by rose, including those on the front path.

Because some of the roses have grown too high for me to reach, Dino joins me and clips the spent roses at the top. Many of the roses are waterlogged, but there are plenty left after we've deadheaded back two sets of leaves on the five rampicante roses in their planters.

Each time I walk into the serra, I look around, including at the gravel floor. Today I do not look at the ground, but after I leave I reenter to find a huge snake...or is it just a huge pink worm on the gravel, curled around near a shelf where some of my ceramic tiles are stored.

For some reason, I am not frightened. I am more relieved that when I walked around the little room earlier that I did not step on it. I was that close. Fr