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JULY 2006
July 1
The morning begins with Stefano arriving to work on the garden sink. Weeks ago, I removed a number of newly painted tiles surrounding the sink, leaving holes at the base of the structure looking like gaping wounds.
In the mounting heat of this summer day, he's not very happy. It is a difficult job to repair and reaffix new tiles. First, he will chip away at the intonico. Then he must chip away at the stucco beneath the intonico. But when he does, some damage to the stucco occurs.
Dino remains behind the house, working on another project. I think it's better to leave Stefano alone right now. So I walk to the loggia where the large bowl sits on a wooden stand to continue painting. I love this bowl.
The design is based on a plate displayed at the ceramics museum in Pesaro, a museum I highly endorse visiting. Pesaro is a delightful coastal town on the Adriatic, located a few hours from us. The plate is several hundred years old at least, and the design is a grotesque featuring two voluptuous women. You'll see it soon.
Dino calls to me after a few minutes, for somehow Stefano miraculously fixed most of the underlying problems. He is ready to affix most of the newly painted tiles, except for a few to be located right under the central section of the sink. The stucco there must dry for a few days before adding any weight to it.
The remainder of the job proceeds quickly, and the result is very good, so everyone is happy. Stefano may return on Monday afternoon to: finish affixing the tiles, adding a wash of white stucco to permeate all the spaces between the tiles, cutting and laying a marble shelf above the upper part of the sink, as well as laying 0ld rectangular tiles on top of the wall.
The final tile design is just as I imagined it might be. Because filtered sunlight dapples the area around the sink, the rose vine design is seen as a delicate, rather than predominant, feature. A single row of tiles just below the sink itself is of a particular design of mine similar to acanthus leaves, setting the roses apart from the sink itself. It's not a perfect design, but a good one, and I'm ready to move on...
The top third of each of the tiles in this row are a sponged blue "sky" with a green vine design. The lower two thirds of the tiles remain plain white. The upper design works against the marble and the rest of the area of the tiles sits against the white painted flower tiles below. Perhaps a photo of it will appear on Monday or Tuesday's journal when the work is finished.
In the meantime, I'm painting the bowl in the loggia, and actually finish the design before pranzo. Later this afternoon, I'll re-smalto a few of the edges and in the morning paint a rim around the top.
Dino loves the design, but the more I think of it, the more I want to work on the yellow painted part, adding more of a dusty peach color to the top to give the piece a more ancient look. It may not be finished tomorrow after all.
I can't stay away from it, so just after pranzo I return to finish the basic design and add my signature. In the morning, when the repaired smalto is set, I can delicately smooth off the extra smalto and finish the rim.
This afternoon we pick up Duccio and Giovanna in Bomarzo to attend a museum exhibition in Orte. We arrive to find that it is really a tour from the biblioteca. First, we are led down the steps to the right of the Duomo to the edge of an ancient bath. We have seen this before, but on this day welcome the decidedly cool temperature.
Next, we are led to the "house of Judah", which is really the front side of Elizabeth's house. We have been inside, and remember a strange holiday dinner with the woman who lived there, who is now estranged from Elizabeth. Perhaps the building has strange karma. We would not be surprised.
From there, we walk to the ancient garden across from Tiziana's school. Once inside, we come upon an ancient turtle, and Giovanna rushes to find a hose to give it a bowl of water.
We are led down some stairs to a tufa cave, and although it is cooler down here than on the street level, I'm not anxious to continue the descent. I remain on this level with an elderly man who speaks English, while his wife and Dino and the rest of the group follow the group leader.
The man's name is Nazir, and tells me stories about his life and his property that sits between Orte Scalo and Gallese. He'd like us to come for a visit, and we may one day. I suspect he is somewhere around eighty years young, and among his stories tells us that his father was Prime Minister of Iraq four times. Those are heady statements to make, so one day we will discover if the stories are true, or if the oppressive heat of this summer's day is just getting to us.
Dino and the man's wife Ellen, and the remainder of the group return, and Dino thinks they were led to a kind of baths, or a pleasure palace of some kind. Carved into tufa rock, these sixteenth century rooms certainly have a history to tell. We'll ask Duccio and also Franco and perhaps even Alberto Roverselli what they know about this underground cave. There is some reference to a ninpheo. I believe it's some kind of bath house from the time of the early Renaissance, perhaps it was even a pleasure palace.
From the outside, we can see the holes where Dino told me the "windows" were, when driving down by the Padre Pio statue near Giusy's salon. There are so many remarkable places to see in Italy, many right in our own neighborhood!
Tonight, we're invited to Candida and Franco's for cena. They've also invited Penny and Bob Weiss, who are stopping by on their way back to the U S and Mill Valley. What a wonderful trip they have had!
We pick up Sofi and on the way stop at the girasole (sunflower) field at the edge of Mugnano, we think belonging to Vittori , the father of the Italian astronaut.
Here is a photo of Mugnano from the field.
These giant flowers are so tall that they lean back against the wall as if dinner guests leaning back to take a slow drag of a cigarette.
Cena is held outside with a view of the enormous tufa wall at the back of their garden, and the temperature remains hot. We have a chance to spend a little time with Penny and Bob on their last night in Orvieto before returning to the U S, and tell them we'll see them in November.
July 2
The bowl needs another touchup of smalto before church, so I hope to finish it in time to take it to Elena.
We walk up to mass and see many of our good friends. A few wait outside until the priest arrives, for it is hot inside. But what's this? Don Mauro has been inside all the time, so the few women who were outside rush in after the opening stanza of the first hymn.
After mass, we walk up to the Università office, where they are taking orders for firewood. We are signed up, and take a photo of the stemma of Mugnano, while discussing the huge map on the wall with Gianfranco and Enzo. The stemma is incredibly elaborate. I don't know if I'm happy or not with the actual design. It's quite beautiful, but will be difficult to render.
My thoughts are of hotdog relish, for we are having an American Fourth of July cena on Tuesday and don't know if we'll be able to find any. I'll find a recipe on the internet and make it from scratch if I can.
Earlier, Rosita confirmed that they'll come for cena on Tuesday, but is dismayed that we don't want her to bring a dessert. We tell her everything will be American, and ask her if she is afraid. Enzo has been warned that there will be no pasta.
July 3
The heat continues. At 8AM, when Sofi and I step out on our little balcony to water the white petunias that cascade over the sides, we can feel the sun already blazing.
While Dino drives to Montecchio on an errand for a client this morning, Sofi sits near me in the loggia. I paint a tray with a bird grotesque, a copy of the one given to Don Salter a few weeks ago, and set it aside to take to Elena's when she returns.
Last night, I painted a tray with roses and also a small plate. Even in the heat of summer, there is a breeze in the loggia and the room is safely out of the sunlight. So while Dino works on projects or snoozes by the fan inside, I can paint away.
We have many smaller plates and other items ready to paint, their flaky white smalto sitting heavy on the terra cotta surfaces. I'll finish them all in the next week or so, then move on to new things, especially the baking dishes I hope to make soon.
I'm doubtful that we will be able to find hamburger and hotdog relish for tomorrow's cena, so check out some recipes on the internet and plan to buy the ingredients if we can't find it in Viterbo. We plan our menu, and it will be fun, as well as the dˇcor. You know the colors...
Stefano will not arrive this afternoon, so after pranzo we drive to LIDL in Viterbo, the German discount supermarket, for supplies. Yes, they have hamburger and hotdog buns, but no relish. So we buy cucumbers (the long English kind) and other supplies. We look forward to the celebration...
July 4
I'll not continue to write about the heat unless there's something new to talk about. The days continue with highs over 90 degrees, with weather the same every day. Yes, it's too hot. The garden suffers, but our garden is mostly composed of evergreens and a fair amount of gravel, so this design remains excellent for the weather in this part of Italy.
At 7AM we pick up Tiziano to drive to the archeological site at Carsulae in Southern Umbria. Wendy is working for an American team there and agrees that we can come for a short visit early in the morning.
We find them in a lower field, actually on the outskirts of the town of San Gemini. Each quadrant is marked off by string and metal poles, with young people in shorts and t-shirts working industriously on excavating different parts of the same site.
Jane, the supervisor from Georgia, thinks that the site was previously a kind of bath, perhaps more of a place to take a "cure" from the source of the water in nearby San Gemini. The site probably dates back to the early Renaissance.
Tiziano's field is the archeology of the Etruscan period, from 4th century before Christ until the 4th century after Christ. So this area is "new" to him. He is interested in it in any case, and enjoys getting to know other archeologists. So when walking around the site, we think he takes in small details that are lost on us.
Here are a few photos of our visit:
He asks if it will be a problem for him to look "just a little" at the World Cup game tonight between Italy and Germany. No problem. If everyone wants to eat in the kitchen, that's fine, too. Dino drives off to pick up a few things, and returns with an Italian flag, one that he sticks in the big planter at the corner of the property facing the village.
"It's Independence Day!" I comment to him. In his way of massaging a result so that it works, he tells me, "Yes, we're independent to live anywhere we choose!"
I make potato salad and coleslaw, and Dino pronounces them both excellent. So, other than doing a little "party setup", my work is done.
Dino drives off to find sunflowers in a nearby field. I clean up leaves on the terrace, then work on the loggia. Before we know it, the guests start to arrive, and we're in party mode.
Without knowing what to expect, I tell our guests that in America people stand around and talk or mingle for a little while before cena. In Italy people sit down as soon as they arrive, and the meal begins. Tonight, we have dips and chips, some from Norway and some from Orvieto, a takeoff on the old American standby, sour cream and dried onion soup mix dip.
Candida and I think the recipe is such a riot that she makes a version of it. After all, we want to be quintessentially American on this night, even though we are flying the Italian flag in honor of the semi-finals of the World Cup, with Italy playing Germany in an hour or so.
Tiziano and I explain to our Norwegian and Italian guests the meaning of Independence Day, 1776 and all that. Then I bring out a diagram to explain how to make a hamburger, and we talk about what kind of things are usually placed upon it.
In the loggia we have dishes lined up with all sorts of things: pickles, minced onion, homemade relish, sliced tomatoes, blue cheese, hot peppers, lettuce, two kinds of mustard, ketchup...
And then we all line up and take our pick, after Dino arrives with the grilled cheeseburgers and veggie burgers and hamburger without cheese.
It's fun, after taking the process of making a cheeseburger for granted all these years. And after a cheeseburger, I have a hotdog with squeezed mustard and some of my homemade relish. The bun is dreadful but the rest is pretty good.
Back to the menu, after we finish the main part of the meal, the soccer game starts, but most everyone remains outside. For dessert, we have the cherry pie with ice cream and then slices of watermelon and then coffee. The cherry pie is so rich that the little pieces we are all served are more than enough. And the pastry crust worked out fine.
All we are missing is fireworks, but inside after the guests leave except for Candida and Franco, we watch the remainder of the soccer game. Italy scores two goals in the final minute or two of the game to win 2-0. We aren't exactly soccer enthusiasts, for it's too stressful a game to watch. But watching the World Cup is a little more interesting. And there certainly are fireworks, both on and off the field.
Fireflies! I'm opening the shutters and see them dance across the lavender garden just before going to bed around midnight. Now summer is really here. I'm really tired. In a few hours, Stefano will be here to work on the garden sink.
Thanks, Dino, for all the great work. We find ourselves in bed a few minutes later, tired and happy.
July 5
Stefano arrives, adds the four remaining tiles, and does some finish work, but there is more to do. The tiles need to set for a few hours, so he tells us he'll be back this afternoon to add white stucco and begin work on the framework of the top and sides.
While setting the last tiles, Stefano needs two pieces of wood to prop up the structure. With "McIver to the rescue," Dino surfaces from the gardener's cottage with the perfect wood for the support. Those two could have their own T V show.
We bottle the relish from last night, after giving it a short re-cook and boiling small jars. Now we have six jars of "Salsa Americana" to give to friends. I notice that two beautiful yellow pepperoni remain in the kitchen as well as a couple of zucchini, so we could make more. We'll see.
But the cherries we purchased yesterday are already almost too ripe. So I pit them instead over the sink, and will make something for tomorrow's dessert at pranzo. Don Francis and two of his friends will be here for a few hours.
While putting our special labels on the jars, Dino looks up at me from his little stool and asks me what I have planned for a menu for tomorrow. We've had pranzos and cenas so often these past few weeks that I think we're settling in to a summer of cooking and entertaining, in between sessions of putting up preserves...and don't forget the ceramica! The repainted and tiled loggia is a perfect summer kitchen as well as a lovely place to paint. Could anyone imagine a better life?
Pranzo on this day consists of a cornucopia of delicious salads, and Dino likes his all displayed in one bowl. "Donburri", he calls it, reminiscent of the Japanese meals we loved in California.
Afterward, Dino drives off to show a property to a client and I work on the Mugnano stemma. First I have to trace the design onto thin tracing paper, put tiny pin pricks where the lines have been traced, and then use a carbon bag to pound the design through the tracing paper onto the smalto.
The design is complex, and I'm not able to finish the drawing and pin pricking before stopping for the night. The archaic-sounding method of transferring the design has worked for centuries, and until there is an easier way, I work "the old fashioned way". It's tedious. But by doing this, I have a more intimate knowledge of the actual design.
I roast yellow peppers for tomorrow. Although I bag them in plastic to let them steam after roasting them under the broiler, it is difficult to wind up with pristine looking yellow pepperoni when I am done. I put them in the frigo for tomorrow, when I will make a special salad with olives, Leerdammer cheese, the peppers and a creamy dressing.
I'm not so sure I like the cherry clofouti I baked tonight for tomorrow's dessert. We were out of milk, so I used cream and water, and the mix was so watery I added more flour, which was a big mistake. Tomorrow I'll try a crunchy crust with butter and sugar to hide the floury taste. If all else fails, we have plenty of watermelon left.
We watch the calcio (soccer) game between Portugal and France. Or at least I watch half of it with Dino. Then Sofi and I go to bed. It's still hot, and Dino decides to water early tomorrow instead of tonight. I put off the gardening I wanted to do tonight again, so perhaps will garden in the morning. I'm tired. Let's go to bed instead.
July 6
Don Francis and his friend Danny arrive around noon for a visit. It's humid and hot, and we're expecting showers and possibly thunderstorms. There is a breeze that makes the sitting out on the terrace for pranzo bearable, even quite nice. So that's what we do.
Our guests want to see Orvieto, so take off for a few hours, while Stefano and Luca add a tufa colored intonico panel as a kind of cornice (picture frame) on each side of the garden sink. It ties the structure in visually to the tufa walls next to the sink, and repairs some of the old tufa wall.
Their first mix of color is not good. It is a dark purple-y color, and is from some earlier project of Stefano's from home. Then they mix a little brown, a little yellow, and come up with the perfect color.
When I call them Michelangelo and Leonardo, Luca responds with a "Giotto!" and yes, that's a better name. They consider themselves artists, and they surely are. I cannot imagine their counterparts in the United States, can you?
It begins to rain a few drops here and there and we are all hoping that the rain is not much more than that. They'll return tomorrow for a minute or two to take off the wooden supports holding back the intonico until it dries. Otherwise, they are finished. We're all pleased with the result.
Don Francis and Danny return for a cena under the stars of pasta and salad. The pasta is a grated zucchini and onion and a touch of fresh mint over penne, quite good. The clafouti is not bad, and that's what we have for dessert before turning in.
Tomorrow ENEL turns off the electricity at 8AM, so we'll be up early. Our guests drive to Ascoli Piceno and we drive to Deruta to pick up the argilla and plates for next Tuesday.
July 7
Dino is the first to arise, but we're all up before ENEL shuts off the power. Don Francis and I have time for a philosophical chat in the lavender garden before the skies turn dark and big juicy drops of rain plop, then turn into an actual rain shower.
Our friends leave, with Don Francis studying maps while sitting at the intersection of the main road out of the village. We pass them and wave, heading south to Orte and then across and north to Deruta. The skies clear and then darken, before an enormous storm pelts the asphalt, steam rises, and the air cools off at least ten degrees. Sofi remains cuddled in my lap.
We pick up the plates we need, as well as plates for Paula, and drive to Mondo Ceramica for the argilla, but they are...out! A new shipment will arrive this afternoon, so we must find a way to stall for time. We call Salvatore, who is selling real estate outside Assisi, and agree to meet him in Santa Maria delle Angeli just after l'una for pranzo.
We arrive early, park in the shade, and find a lovely new patch of grass near the fountain, where Sofi rolls around in ecstasy, her own version of "splendor in the grass". She is clearly in some kind of trance at the soft coolness of the grass against her warm coat.
Her activity looks so enticing that I'd love to join her. There is nothing like rolling around in pristine grass, freshly cut. But the location is far too public for me. Instead, I smile at her, and watch her have such a good time.
Salvatore arrives and drives us to a nearby restaurant, with prices up with the Angels on the Duomo, but we agree to eat there, anyway. Sal eats salmon carpaccio, I order tuna carpaccio, and Dino eats a crostini plate and then pasta.
We talk about his real estate business, and other entrepreneurial attempts, and wish we could help him. Tonight, he'll meet with Danny and Don Francis. It would be fun to be a fly on the wall to see his expression when he finds out we had lunch with Sal...today!
We leave Sal and drive back to Deruta, but it takes another hour for the argilla to arrive. Then we drive back through a blinding thunderstorm and hail so large we are afraid the windshield will break, with rushes of water crashing against the side rails of the autostrada. A large truck in front of us scatters the ice from the hailstones between its large tires, and it is as if winter appeared in an instant. It makes a swath of ice at least three feet wide.
Trucks and cars turn on their rear lights, moving forward in formation, with many of them pulled over to the side of the road as if an accident has just occurred. I am sure the storm has frightened many people on the road. Turning to look at Dino, I can see that he is frightened, too. He confirms he has never seen a storm like this one.
Just before arriving in Terni, we are routed north back to San Gemini and across to Narni. We stop in Amelia for a meeting with a realtor, then drive home through Lugnano on the newly repaired road.
Once home, Dino drives off again to pay for the auto insurance, but we have no power, so I light every candle in the house, open the front window to watch the rain and do what every normal person does in the rain... I play solitaire.
Before he left, Dino called ENEL and a recorded message indicated that power would be turned back on by 7PM.
Shelly calls before Dino returns with an alarm that there was an earthquake last night centered between Terni and Viterbo. That means...here! So I check on the ansa.it and also usgs websites and am unable to find nothing. The weather is so weird today, anyway.
I'm thinking and hoping that the garden meeting tomorrow will be cancelled. Although Dino checks and our tomatoes are still all right, I'd like to stay around and work on the garden. With this alarming rainfall, there is much to secure and pamper, to make sure that the garden doesn't just...rot after all the rain.
July 8
With a clear sky and cool temperature, we awaken early. Dino wants to go today, so when he calls Carol to confirm and she tells him that all is well in Tuoro, we agree to go. A few hours later, we're on the road, stopping at Orvieto to meet Franco's sister Rita and then driving to Carol and John's house, near the top of the hill overlooking Lake Trasimeno.
Dino thinks we're back in California on Mount Tamalpais, looking through the trees at the scene below. They've landscaped beautifully, and have a lovely house. But Sofi encounters Charlie, their 8 month young puppy, who wants to bark and play. It takes a while for them to settle down, for he chases her in and out of the house, while she wants none of it. By the time we leave for pranzo, they've relaxed.
Pranzo is fun at a local restaurant, again the scene reminiscent of Mount Tam. Afterward, we drive to the garden of friends where there is a mostra as well as walking paths through their unusual garden.
The garden is close to Lake Trasimeno, located also in Tuoro, and is eye-popping in its "over the top-ness". The two who own the property are garden experts, and each year replant the entire garden with annuals! There is also a perennial garden, but it is located way at the back near the space where cars are allowed to park. So I only see it from a distance. They're obviously not into perennials...
Alessandra Orsi exhibits at the mostra, as does the woman who sells fragrant geraniums. A man who sells roses features Pierre di Ronsard and Jude the Obscure, two roses we have and love. Well, we're not so sure about the Pierre di Ronsard, for it is our first year with them. But they look lovely here.
Candida tells us that there was indeed an earthquake last night, centered somewhere around Orvieto. Candida felt it, and later we hear that Tiziano felt it in Mugnano as well. We felt nothing.
Later that night, we walk up to town and see Augusta and Luciana sitting on a bench in the little park. I hear a cicada, and ask them if they like them. They do, and tell us it is a sign that summer is here. Grilli, they are called, and I don't look forward to their racket. They are so loud that I can hear them at night through the screen window, although they are probably located in a tree below on the terrace.
July 9
The skies are clear, the weather is cooler, so cool that I don't anticipate a very hot day. Dino drives to Il Pallone to shop before mass and pick up some fresh bread for pranzo. Occasionally, we have bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches for pranzo with salads, and although you think this is not a big deal, it is to us.
We have located a pancetta that is sliced very thin, so thin in fact, that when Dino cooks it on a padella in the summer kitchen, he sometimes cooks several pieces together. But when assembling the sandwich, the pancetta has a wonderful, almost smoky taste. We're reminded that we will want to go to the Book Depot in Mill Valley when we travel to America this fall, for their BLT's.
We're almost late for mass, but when we arrive there is no priest. People begin to gather inside, and Tiziano and I walk outside to the steps to gab while we wait. Everyone else waits patiently inside. The air is still. We're laughing outside and turn to see Don Cirio rushing across the piazza, his vestments hung over his arm.
"Slowly, slowly"...we tell him, and then,,, "Breathe!" He gives us a sheepish laugh and disappears into the little church. After mass, while Dino talks with a neighbor about a house Mai Elin wants to buy, I walk to Paola's to get Antonio's key for the Università Agraria building. We need another photo of the stemma, for a detail is very cloudy.
Tiziano joins us, always curious about everything, and tells us that the stemma I love is not the original stemma of Mugnano, although admits it is a fine one. The original one has two keys above it and the wording, "Sindaco di Mugnano" or mayor of Mugnano. He thinks the picture and other details are somewhere filed in this room. So we tell Paola later that we'll need Antonio's help to find it.
Back to the stemma we're taking a photo of today...
Tiziano tells us it is the stemma of the Lante family...of Villa Lante fame. Many, many years ago, the Lante family owned all of this area. So for now, we'll use this stemma, until we see another that we like better. It is quite marvelous.
I tell Paola that I want to make something special for her and also Antonio as a wedding present. They will be married in a very small ceremony in a few weeks, and by then their house will be finished. It is quite wonderful, with slate steps at the entrance, and a number of fine features. We wish them every happiness.
This will be the second wedding of the Fosci children; the first was Mario's wedding to Fulvia a few years ago. Both marriages are between people who grew up in Mugnano, so we think the bond is extra special.
I'm noticing in the garden that some of the roses are re-flowering, and that pleases me greatly. This second blush is not as robust as the first, but the Paul Lede's are so lovely that it does not matter. The Ophelia in the olive tree still has not come back, so perhaps it will take another year. I am hopeful. Here and there, roses pop out, giving extra color where I least expect it.
I love our garden, for I planned that it will be very evergreen, so that whether or not we have a lot of flowers it will still look fresh and lovely. It does. And now Dino is close to finishing the gravel around the garden sink and leveling that off. There's always something to do.
For me, I'm thinking mostly about ceramics and painting. The obsession continues, and I hope to have a number of pieces ready to take to Elena by the end of the week.
By the end of the day, I have almost finished the painting of the stemma. The temperature outside did heat up, but I spend a few hours sitting in the loggia listening to opera music while painting. It is a lovely place in which to paint, with the view of the terrace and the valley below right in front of me. Sofi spends much of the time resting at my feet.
The moon is almost full, the sky is clear, and the air is fragrant and cool once the sun lowers on the horizon. Tonight is the final game of the World Cup in Germany, between Italy and France. I watch part of it, but am frankly bored, so when the game is tied and continues into overtime, Sofi and I go to bed.
July 10
So Italy won the world cup, with Zidaine from France making a fool of himself by head-butting an opposing player, causing him to be thrown out of the game. But amazingly, he is awarded the "best player of the games award"...
On this warm morning, I finish the stemma of Mugnano while sitting in the coolness of the loggia. I am so happy with this piece, and look forward to placing it somewhere in the house after it is fired at Elena's.
Before I paint another stemma of Mugnano, I have other pieces to finish. And by that time, we'll be mixing more smalto. I am truly at peace when painting these elaborate pieces, and have so much to look forward to. Now that I have no real interest in selling anything, I can just paint for love.
I look forward to tomorrow, and a lesson on working with a potter's wheel with our own clay. I am hopeful that I can master the technique, but have no real expectations. With no knowledge of the craft, I take out a book on tile making, and it gives me some basics to consider.
Sofi will stay with Candida and Franco and his sister, Rita, for a day or so, depending on how late we get back from our trip tomorrow. We take her to their house in Orvieto, then drive on to Tenaglie to visit with Don and Mary who are here for a visit, and then drive on to Pat and Dick Ryerson's house below Montefalco for an early cena.
Don and Mary are not here yet, so we drive on to Montefalco after dropping Sofi off. While she scurried around in the garden after lizards, we left silently, wanting to make sure we did not have an emotional exit.
I miss her by the minute, and luckily am distracted by the number of sunflower fields we encounter on the drive to Casale and then to Montefalco. At Pat and Dick's, we start with prosecco and before we know it we have to leave for our reservations at The Alchemist, their favorite restaurant in the square of Montefalco.
Sitting outside with Noreen joining us, we are amazed at how few people are out on this lovely night. The food is always remarkable here, with Pat and I having a kind of sformato of fava beans (I know they're no longer officially in season, but they're tiny and the dish is divine.)
There is an involtini of eggplant, a cece bean salad, and I cannot resist having scrambled eggs with shaved truffles. The owner tells me they are prepared only with eggs, a little olive oil and then the shaved truffles. It is a dish to dream about, simple as it may seem, and taste marvelous at any time of day.
We drive home under a full moon, and are in bed just before midnight. Tomorrow will be a long day. But I look over where Sofi usually sleeps and she is not there. I do love that dog!
July 11
We're out of the house by 7AM and arrive at Paola and Alessandro's so early that we drive around for a while and look inside a local church before ringing their bell at 9AM.
This is a place with so much family history that I cannot begin to compare anything we might speak about when they come for a visit. Paola is lovely and they are both so warm and welcoming that we feel as if we have been there many times before.
While changing into my work clothes, I am introduced to Angela, a tiny woman who has worked for the family for years. "Tata", she is called, for she worked as a nanny for the children years ago, and later we are shown her little cottage. An exquisite blue hydrangea covers the front like a woman in a ball gown taking a curtsey and I can just imagine her leaning out the open window.
Paula has invited five other friends for pranzo, all of whom we like very much. Under the shade of a wonderful kiwi covered pergola, we sit at a long table and are served the most wonderful meal. The menu consists of a Napolitano pasta in the shape of a pie, typical of something served at family picnics in Italy.
It can be cooked in the morning and served at room temperature. Cooked in a pie plate, it is served in wedges. Cacciotta is the soft cheese layered inside, mixed with tiny pieces of prosciutto, the crunchy crust of the spaghetti holding it all together.
There is an eggplant dish called Melanzanie alla Picchio pacchio, meaning, "quick, quick!), a pepper dish, and later Paola's medley of homemade gelato. I ask for the recipes, which Paola generously agrees to send.
During pranzo, Rory shares an excellent observation regarding gardening in Italian clay soil. He tells us that if a plant is able to take root in the soil and get its bearings, it will do wonderfully. Clay soil contains lots of minerals. It gets me thinking...
I spend quite a bit of time wondering just what it is that makes me feel so at home in this strange country. And when Rory gives the description of the soil, a light bulb goes off in my head. I think I am like a plant that grew but never thrived in its garden until it was transplanted far away in totally different soil.
With a little sun, and our new surroundings, I seem to thrive. For all that is wrong with this country, so much is right that I feel rooted deep in the earth here. I can't imagine that anything could uproot me. But then again, I never did fit in anywhere else...
Later, after the other guests have left and we are ready to leave ourselves, Alessandro tells us that Paola's year is taken up by projects depending on the weather and the state of their garden. Summer means gelato, winter means chocolate, ceramics are plunked in between, and I wish I could remember all the other projects she lovingly takes on during the year. But the day is so full of wonder that it's difficult to concentrate on what we came here for.
Since Paola has worked with ceramics for ten years, she has put together a wonderful studio. Yes, there is a potter's wheel, but it is a hand-operated one, and I try crafting my first piece by pumping the wheel with my right foot, while attempting to mould the mound of red clay on the turntable with both hands raised almost shoulder height.
It is a difficult process, perhaps because it appears so unwieldy, but with Paola's expert hands, we are able to craft an interesting large pie plate with undulating sides. Yes, that's the way to get around not being able to form a perfect cylinder. The stand is just too high for me, and I imagine the whole thing zooming off the turntable like a boomerang before we stop and decide to work an easier way.
Paola also has a kind of machine that turns the clay out somewhat like running clothes through an old-fashioned washing machine ringer. Actually, it also looks a little like a mimeograph machine, with spokes on the side to turn it.
"It's like making pasta," Paola tells me, and yes, it surely is. She places the wad of clay on the table. Then we slowly crank the spokes all the way across the table and back. We now have a piece that is about 1/4 inch thick, so take a wooden rolling pin and thin the disc of clay out a little. What happens next is so much fun...
Paola has saved hundreds of forms from polystyrene containers to old plastic cups and plates. "Take your pick!" she offers, and I start with a regular round plastic pie plate, imagining a simple form with handles. Remember these are all to be able to use for baking in the oven when they are finished, so I imagine serving pies and all sorts of bubbling cheesy concoctions on my own painted dishes.
First, an old plastic bag is placed over the dish or the form, and the clay is plopped down on top. I then form the clay into the shape of the container, smoothing it out and adding the handles. Now and then I dip my fingers into water and smooth out the crevices of the clay, adding small pieces here and there where the form is not thick enough. On a few pieces, I add cut pieces made into the shapes of leaves or little animals.
Paola sets those aside, and asks me to choose another form. Before pranzo, I have finished three, with about half of our clay left for the afternoon. Paola leaves to organize the meal, while I get to know her good friend, L,,, who used to craft ceramics with Paola before injuring her hand. Later we see the frogs she has made for the garden. What fun they are!
We call Candida and Franco for a report on Sofi and Franco tells us that she has been an excellent student. They agree to keep her until tomorrow. So we drive home, with me missing little "Piccola" so very much.
When we arrive at our parcheggio, Candida and Rina are sitting outside on our little marble benches, with Mauro and Laura standing in the street talking with them. I tell them where we have been all day and what we have done, and they are so curious.
Sure, they'd love to take a look, and peer in through the car windows until I open the trunk and lift the newspaper from one and then another of the boards. It is fun to share with them. Now they tell me they want to see the finished products. I like their boldness, their direct responses.
Rina, the oldest woman, knows the plant that Paola put in a pot for us, telling us all that it is "molto invasivo" (sp?) but agrees it is lovely. So I hand a tiny bud to each of them and they walk away cackling like little hens, expecting to have big plants in just a few days.
We give the ceramics a thorough going-over, and there are a few cracks due to shrinkage, which I expected. So I add a few pieces of clay and smooth them over the cracks, then place wet newspaper over the top, as Paola instructed.
"They will change as they dry," Paola told me earlier. It is a good thing that I did a little reading before coming today, so thought this might happen. The splits are not too bad, and Paola made sure that I had extra pieces of her grey clay in case something like this happens. I have plenty of red clay left, for Dino only packed a portion of what we purchased the other day in Deruta for today's trip.
We change and drive to Oktoberfest in the next town for some German beer and a snack, and then it's time to go to bed. Tomorrow we'll pick up Sofi in Orvieto and work on the ceramics some more. There is much to think about...
July 12
It's hot early, and we're both watering outside and then getting ready to leave. I find a wasps' nest on the balcony, and we agree to leave it until tonight when Dino will destroy it. We drive to Sippiciano so that Dino can get a haircut, then we stop at the best panificio around, Le Torre in Civita D'Agliano, for loaves of WWF bread. Two loaves are purchased for Candida and Franco, one for Don and Mary in Tenaglie and one for us. There's too much going on these days for me to bake, but in the fall I'll bake bread again. In the meantime, we take advantage of our route to Orvieto to pick up our favorite breads.
Sofi can see me through the little dog window at Candida and Franco's front door once we reach Orvieto, and we have a real "Fare una festa" (the dog makes a party) when Franco opens the door and I rush in to make sure she does not run out on the street.
After a short visit, we leave with Sofi to drive to Don and Mary's in Tenaglie. They have only been here since yesterday, and Don greets us with cutoff jeans and a childlike wonder as he recounts all their adventures.
Mary is still trying to get over the drive and train ride from England, sitting rather dazed in the kitchen and thankful for the chance to speak with someone in English. The woman on one side of them only speaks Italian; the family on the other side is Maroccan. We agree to a girls' gab-fest next week.
We drive home and it's too late to make any of my elaborate salads for today. I remember that tomorrow we'll drive to Tia and Bruce's for pranzo, so I'll make a salad for them later tonight or tomorrow morning after roasting the peppers purchased from the weekly outdoor mercato in Sippiciano.
Don gave us a sweet wooden bread dish that reads BREAD on each side, so I decide to make two ceramic labels to sit on top of the words that Dino will screw in. They will read MANGIA on one side and BENE on the other. I like the dish a lot.
Now that I am getting comfortable with making things, I fear I'll be like Paola, painting almost everything that moves. I take a cloth to the loggia and a wooden rolling pin, roll out a piece of grey clay and cut out the shape of the two labels for the bread tray, poking a little hole at the ends of each one. They are set out to dry in the shade with the other pieces, after being covered with wet newspaper. All the pieces will take a week to ten days to dry thoroughly enough to cook. And several times each day I'll need to recheck to make sure there are no cracks...
After pranzo, I return to work on the purchased ceramics and the smalto, rubbing the extra smalto off the piece I painted some days ago with the Mugnano stemma. This piece was smaltoed so many months ago, that I do not recall if it is covered in the same smalto. Only after it is cooked will we know. So later today we'll start to check in with Elena, to see when she'll be ready to fire some new pieces.
I don't know if I want to buy powdered smalto this summer, so we'll also ask her if she/we can smalto some pieces there before they are painted here at home. We'll take one of the pieces we purchased in Deruta last week for use in the oven, to ask her if we need a different smalto, or different paint. It's a good thing I keep a journal....
While driving along the road between Orvieto and Tenaglie we pass a hill of bare turned-over clay, surrounding a lone cypress, stark and still in the quasi-wilderness. I think about Rory's comments yesterday and wonder if I am like that tree, rooted in the bare earth and still.
July 13
The summer heat drags on after a cool night. Sofi is happy back at home chasing lucertoles that have found refuge behind her little house on the terrace. She stands there wagging her tail, just looking toward the opening made by the extended roofline of the back of the tiny "house".
She cannot reach back there, for we have stacked river stones, and these are what the lucertoles love to scamper around. When Sofi takes a break and waddles into the kitchen, her long tongue is dragging as if it's a piece of pink bubble gum stretched out as far as it can reach.
The pie plate I was sure was warped beyond repair has survived! Just as Paola told me, after a bath in water and a slow dry, it is malleable and I am able to add more argilla. I like the final form even better now, and add little handles that are held up by garden stones covered in pieces of plastic and wet newspaper. As they dry, they will crack under the weight unless supported. So I'll check on all the pieces every few hours or so, and we'll see what kind of results we get. For now, the original piece formed on the wheel looks, well, almost spectacular, the undulating sides waltz-like and even, with not a single crack.
I fix my new favorite salad, with pepperoni, matchsticks of Leerdammer cheese, olives in a cream and olive oil sauce. With Dino's encouragement, I add a few drops of Tabasco and even a spritz of vinegar. It is to be served at room temperature along with Tia's gaspacho and Bruce's steaks from the grill at their house for pranzo.
Sofi loves "Zia Tia", although she's not so sure about Gioia and Charlie, their dogs. It will be fun to let her scamper about anyway, for the dogs pretty much leave each other alone after Gioia finishes doing her "alpha dog" exercise with Sofi, nestling our little dog between her long legs to tell her who's bigger. Sofi has an independent streak, and is not particularly fond of this kind of treatment. So she goes off on her own, the two dogs of the house gamboling around to find...lucertones!
Cinzia is the name of the woman at the little shop in Amelia where I purchase my makeup. I like dealing with her very much, and she carries the makeup I use, but I have never asked her name, nor has she asked me for mine until today.
We hug Italian style, and I tell her to call me Eva. The bond between people who share their names and embrace in Italy is like a sorority greeting, much like using a secret handshake. She knows I'll never shop anywhere else. Little do I know that somewhere in the next hours I'll lose the expensive lipstick we just purchased.
We arrive at "Zia Tia's" and eat under the wisteria pergola. It is lovely at that spot. So we all talk about whether we should have a kiwi pergola or a wisteria pergola, but we agree that it should be anchored to the house. Tia confirms that we really need a pergola at the front of the house. It is just too hot and uncomfortable to sit out there during warm weather.
It's Thursday, and stores are closed this afternoon except in Terni, but we drive there to find a merceria, where we can buy more ribbon to make lavender wands. Tia has more lavender than she needs, so invites us to take some. We borrow a basket and plunk most of the cuttings of two plants, and I'll make more wands tonight and tomorrow night.
I like having them in the house, but ran out of time before I was able to make more when ours were ready to harvest. Tia's garden seems to bloom a couple of weeks after ours. It is interesting to compare the different weather zones, although we're actually quite close to each other.
It's warm at home, and I change and put on an old summer skirt. When putting my hand in the pocket I find...my watch! I actually have liked not wearing a watch these past few weeks, so don't know if I'll put it back on or not...I really don't care what the time is anymore.
July 14
We're up with the birds, with an adventure ahead of us. We pick up our pal, Tiziano, to take him for his birthday outing at an agritourismo on the other side of Viterbo, closer to the coast. There is an Etruscan cave on the site, but the owner has to fix the front entrance, so we'll have to return in a week or so. He gives us a tour, because we are there, and it is an amazing place, a great place for people to stay, and a lovely location for parties and weddings. The owner's design sense is impeccable.
We agree that we'll return in a week or so to visit the site and pick up a bottle of his olive oil before driving on to Capodimonte for pranzo. Sofi is able to join us in the restaurant, which winds up not being remarkable, but the company is fun.
We return home and I return to making wands with Tia's lavender. They're drying quickly, so I don't think I will be able to make many. I start the pasta dish, make a few wands, and it is time to go to bed.
I also continue with the ceramics in the loggia, not giving up on the smaller one. The larger pie plate still may be all right, but the leaf dish still cracks. I decide to break it in two to reseal it with argilla between the two pieces, then add plenty of wet newspaper and now a mesh-like box tops with wet cloths, to slow down the drying process. It seems to work. The loggia is really too pretty for such work, but it's what we have.
Here's how the loggia is looking these days, especially the tiles over the sink:
I mix the cold spaghetti and cheese with beaten eggs, five of them to a box of cooked and cooled pasta. In a large padella, I put butter, then half of the spaghetti mixture, then layers of prosciutto and cacciotta cheese. Paola tells us that mozzarella is fine, as is just about anything else. "The more you add, the more you have!" she tells us. I then add the rest of the pasta and press it down.
Cooking it slowly on top of the stove, it turns a golden brown on the bottom. Then Dino flips it over onto a huge round platter. We slide it back into the pan, cooking the other side until it is crunchy as well. Once it cools, we can serve it at room temperature. Sounds pretty easy.
I work on the ceramic plates in the loggia, and only one is really a problem. I think the others will work out all right. So we take a photo of the offending dish and send it to Paola to inspect and critique. I'm ready to throw it out, then remember that Paola told me on the first pie plate to sit it in water and then reform it. That plate will come out fine, I think. So we'll see. We'll wait to hear from her before making any rash decisions.
Merritt and Kate arrive, and after we talk for a while, tell us that there is a house on our site that they are interested in. It's another house in Tenaglie, so we call the owner and agree to take them after pranzo. It's been four years since we've seen them, but they've kept our information, so thought to call us yesterday from Orvieto, at the end of their trip.
What is funny is that they probably speak Italian better than we do. Kate was extremely serious about learning the language four years ago, and they took a more advanced course after the one in Perugia where we met. But we're the guides today, so we'll see how we all do with the language. We seem to do fine speaking English....
We stop to pick up the key and a nephew, Riccardo, accompanies us. He is very cute. The property is even prettier than I remembered, with a tiny little garden house and garden to the side, more than a hectare of land, olive and fruit trees, a grape arbor and pergola, a pizza oven, a summer kitchen and separate apartment on the ground floor...That's even before we get to the house. The main house itself needs less work than I originally thought, and the view, especially at sunset, is remarkable.
We realize Don and Mary may be at home, so we walk down the street and introduce them. "You may have new neighbors" we tell them all, then on the way to our car, introduce Kate and Merritt to old Gaetano, the old man who sits on his front step down the street, watching everything that goes on.
"When is little chiesa San Rocco open?" I ask him, and his eyes twinkle. He puts his hand in his pocket and tells me, "Whenever you want. I have the key."
The street where the property is located is Strada del Ministero, and since Merritt is an Episcopal minister, there may be a little divine providence in this encounter. Perhaps Merritt will take on tiny San Rocco as his own parish of sorts. San Rocco is a saint always depicted with a dog at his side, and Merritt likes that. He loves his dog back in the U.S.
"How do you feel when you stand on the property and look out over the hills?" I ask Kate, and later Merritt. They separately give me "the look", the look that tells me that they are home. I remember just how they feel. So whether or not they buy the property, they have had a great experience.
Dino and Sofi and I sit in the loggia, watching the rain. We talk about how strange it is that some people are so wonderful to deal with, while others are not during this process. These two are a delight, and we look forward to getting to know them, whether or not they become quasi neighbors. We think Don and Mary would love having them as neighbors as well.
Something is amiss, and my head begins to feel hazy. It is the barometric pressure, I fear, and a headache comes on like a fast moving windstorm. I look at the weather on the internet, and see that the barometric pressure is high, at 30.1. I'll check it again daily, to see if in fact I am a human barometer. It has been weeks since I've had a migraine. Dino wants to purchase a barometer, and now I think it's a good idea.
We take a walk out to the garden sink, and Dino has prepped the earth for a large section of nursery cloth, followed by more gravel, to surround the front of the sink area. Perhaps tomorrow we'll finish it. It looks wonderful.
He then moves inside to fix the bottom drawer of the stove. So much like his father, he has trouble sitting down unless he is watching a Formula 1 race, then he can watch that for hours.
Tomorrow is another race, so he'll have a lazy afternoon. It will give me time to do some painting, and I've missed it. We don't know when Elena will return, but I have a number of pieces for her to cook.
Sure enough, a migraine arrives and I finish the evening with an ice pack, not looking forward to the drone of it all...
July 16
The migraine continues, it's throbbing like the sound of an air conditioning system...puttering, puttering.
It's a clear and lovely morning. I close the shutters to the lavender garden, and it's difficult not to smile at the lovely site of clipped lavender orbs all in rows, oval boxwood framing the west side of the lavender path, cypress trees...while the shade of the house hangs like an umbrella over much of it in the early morning sunlight.
Back at home, I spend much of the day in bed. Sal arrives to watch the Formula 1 race with Dino, but Sofi chooses to sit by me and wait...Much later in the afternoon we get up for a visit with Sal before he leaves.
Dino gets up on his ladder to pick cachi, and there are thousands, thousands still there. At this time of year they are actually dangerous, falling with hard bumps on anyone or anything below them. He's picked over 3,000, and we've given up on the contest, for it will drag on and on. Today he picks almost 400.
Tiziana arrives for a short meeting about the entertainment on August 5th for the village, and we walk her up to the borgo to take a look. She loves the way the main piazza looks and why not? It is beautiful, with spina di pesce tiles laid throughout. The evening is warm, with people walking about or sitting in groups in front of their houses, and of course everyone is friendly...and curious.
We introduce her around as we take our "giro" up to the ancient tower and back, and agree to speak again in a few days to determine the actual program. Tiziana continues to have problems with her neck, and we agree that the rise in the barometric pressure has caused pain for her as well as for me.
"Do we hide when it is high?" I ask her. No one seems to know, other than when the barometric pressure is high, it can cause many difficulties with muscles and pain in general. This is the part of getting old that is really not much fun.
July 17
The barometric pressure stays at 30.1, but I'm thinking my migraine is on it's way out like a storm that sits on top of us and then decides to move on. I'm still a little hazy when I get up. It's early, but someone wants to show us a house nearby at 9AM, so we're all up early.
We look at two properties and agree to list them. You'll find them on the properties page of this site. One is near us just over the border in Umbria, and is a lovely characteristic house in the country, one that can be divided into two separate living quarters, with a garden and many fruit trees.
The second is an apartment with a little garden in Alviano, with a panoramic view. It is totally restructured, and actually quite pretty. It's called a "chiavi mano", or what we in the U S call "turnkey".
Later in the day, an alert comes in from the U S Embassy in Rome. In the event you've never seen what one of these alerts is like, here it is:
"The U.S. Embassy in Rome informs citizens that on July 17, 2006 there will be two demonstrations protesting the escalation of violence in the Middle East. The first demonstration, a torchlight procession protesting war in the Middle East, is scheduled to begin at 2030 (8:30pm) in Piazza San Marco. The procession will march from Piazza San Marco past the Roman Forum to the Coliseum. The second demonstration, a candlelight vigil promoting solidarity with Israel, is scheduled to begin at 2230 (10:30pm) in front of the Jewish Synagogue located on Lungotevere Cenci. The number of participants in the two events is unknown. Both demonstrations are in support of a peaceful resolution to the Middle East conflict and are not expected to be violent in nature. We wish to remind American citizens that even demonstrations intended to be peaceful can turn confrontational and possibly escalate into violence. American citizens are, therefore, urged to avoid the areas involved with the demonstrations and to exercise caution if within the vicinity. "
We're worried about Don Francis, who is in Jerusalem and other parts of Israel for a week. Our prayers are with him, and I email him to check in with him. We have not heard from him since he was here about a week ago. Being so close to the Middle East, the happenings there seem right around the corner. It is all so sad.
The phone rings, and dearest Uncle Harry is very close to death. Terence calls, and then we call the hospital to speak with Aunt Elaine. Adrian, Christopher, Jed and Laurie are on their way to Rancho Mirage on the next available plane. Wish we could join them. But our hearts are there, and we send our prayers for Harry's comfort during this difficult time.
Harry is 91 years young, and on the phone Aunt Elaine speaks about the most wonderful ten and one half years that they have had together. They certainly lived each moment. We were always so taken by the tenderness they showed each other.
We end the night with prayers all around and with trepidation regarding what tomorrow might bring.
July 18
The church bells peal their mournful cry and someone is dead in the village. I feel air filling my lungs and take a big breath. Dino and I look at each other silently, and our minds fill with fear. Where are Marsiglia and Felice?
I rush over to the area below Rosina, and she is not there. Marie looks over the balcony and tells me the sound is that someone is dead. She does not know who the bells peal for.
Some minutes later I am able to reach Rosina, after calling up to her a few times. She comes out to her balcony, leans over with her hands on her knees and smiles kindly, knowing we are worried. "Don't worry. It's someone I don't really know. They were born in Mugnano but don't live here. " The 9 A M bells peal whenever someone has died. Tomorrow morning there will be a funeral. But for today, our friends are all safe, and Dino and I continue to go about our day as usual, although sure that tonight we'll take a walk up to the borgo to check in on our friends.
We decide that we do want to attend the open air opera at Narni after all, so put together a group and later today we'll drive there to see the configuration of the arena before purchasing our tickets. Dino always does that. You know, he gets the "lay of the land", even before making dinner reservations at a restaurant.
"I'd like to make reservations at table 11," he'd say when calling the restaurant. Most people are floored. But it is quite a good idea.
We're out in the garden. Dino finishes the gravel around the garden sink with a little help from me, and the area is so sweet. I imagine him sitting under the shade of the little pergola, snoozing away...but not today.
Stefano stops by and we talk about a couple of future projects. The one we both are enamored with is the pergola on the front terrace. He tells us that if we want to have columns built instead of using castagno or iron poles at the base where the kiwi will grow, we'll need a permit. That's not a really big deal. It will just take time. We'll get that going very soon.
We ask him about the continuing humidity problem, and he tells us about a company below Viterbo that sells a product that stretches and is used under paint. We've read about it, especially in the U S, and now it is available here.
So this fall we'll check into that, and also into getting the house painted. Before we install the iron pergola, we'll have to have the house painted, or painters will have trouble putting scaffolding around the house.
Don and Mary arrive before noon, and after a chat inside where it is cool, the boys drive off in Don's car to the faggetto, the beechwood forest above Soriano at Monte Cimino. It's very cool there in the summertime and Dino likes the place a great deal.
I've prepared a number of my favorite salads, and Mary and Sofi and I sit in the kitchen just talking for the hours we're alone. I enjoy getting to know her. It feels so strange coming from me, but I give her a few tips regarding phrases to speak in Italian. She wants to be able to speak with their neighbors in Tenaglie and until now, Don has done all the talking...
Before we're through, she's armed with a few: "Fa niente" (it is nothing) is her favorite, but then there's "Boh!" (untranslatable) and the good old standby, "Si, certo!" (of course!) as well as a few others.
Phrases are what people should be taught at first when learning the language, other than vocabulary. Getting bogged down with verbs and all the fourteen tenses turns the learning process into a strangling wrangling headachy enterprise. Boh!
Dino and Don return, and we have my cold lemony meringue pie for dessert. It's from a mix, and surprisingly very good. We all get into our cars, then lead them to Guardea. We show them the two ferramentas (hardware and paint stores) and the park where Don can run, and then drive to Narni to buy our opera tickets.
Some day we'll get him together with Marilyn Smith. They are cut from the same cloth. He's wide-eyed with love about this undertaking, and his passion is infectious. If you're in Italy or plan to be during the next two weeks, be sure to attend this opera. Aida will be staged this year and the sets are almost finished. It will be a treat to sit under the stars and listen to the music.
We return by way of Spazio Verdi, the vivai nearby, and pick up six small boxwood plants, to be used in pots in the area in front of the living room window. At home I take out a few books with photos and the solution for the pergola bases jolts me.
We won't have columns; instead we will have beautiful big square Tuscan-looking terra cotta planters. Big square rods of iron will run from the centers up to the intersection with the cross pieces, which will be curved. Kiwi vines, whose bases look like tree trunks when they are mature, will grow out of the pots, and we'll have our shade in no time. During the winter, when there are no leaves, the beautiful shape of the iron pergola will still look wonderful. The cost will be substantially less, and we won't need a permit.
Dino's thrilled, and loves the idea. The design will be characteristic but unlike any we've ever seen. We'll have Carlo in Ripabianca make the pots to order with no bases, so that there will be plenty of space for the earth and kiwi to grow, and will plant them this fall. This plan has unfolded like a child's picture book, suddenly appearing in Technicolor in my mind's eye.
We take a walk up to the borgo and welcome Loredana and Alberto back to Mugnano. They'll be here for a month or so, and we'll see them often. We stop for a drink of their favorite, spumante, under the stars and as we're walking back through the piazza see Marsiglia and Felice. We're so relieved they are both well. It is not until I give them each a big hug that I am sure they are safe.
Back at home, we call the U S, and Uncle Harry is actually rallying. Go Uncle Harry! Our thoughts and prayers are with dear Uncle Harry, Aunt Elaine and the whole family.
July 19
Silvano Spaccese arrives at 8AM. We are way behind in tending the tomatoes, mostly because it has been so hot. So he's here to see what he can do about getting them back in shape. We're sure he'll be thinking, "Well, they're stranieri, so of course they don't know what they're doing!" We do know what we're doing, sort of, but the days just run away with us.
A rooster crows on the other side of the tomatoes, as if it's laughing at us with Spaccese. I get dressed and move the ceramics into the corner of the living room. It's been so hot that they will never dry correctly in the loggia. Let's see if a longer drying process will help them. And I'm itching to paint again.
"La mia ombra!" Lore corrected me when I told her last night that Sofi is my shadow. I have been saying, "Il mio ombra" and she tells me that that is not correct.
This morning, la mia ombra and Dino and I walk down the steps across the street to stand in the shade of the giant olive tree. The funeral procession slowly moves by, and Sofi sits in my arms patiently. For just this once, she does not bark at Rina, who stands beside us. It's too hot for Rina to continue the walk today to the cemetery.
A few minutes earlier, Francesco drove his police car toward us from the borgo, stopping to talk. He appreciated it that we're standing in respect to his uncle, although he did not say so. Once the procession passes, we return to the house, where it is cooler. Cooler.
We have realized that we don't really appreciate this property in the summer time because it is so very hot in the sun on the terrace. So the pergola idea will change the way we live here in the summertime. We're both looking forward to that.
I'm vacillating between wanting kiwi vines and wisteria to cover the pergola. Either will work well. I'm just not sure which will look better during the months when there are no leaves. I also want to be sure that the kiwi doesn't just form a tangled mess.
I think wisteria is more delicate. But then again, the kiwi fruit has a luminosity to it and the fruit stays on the vine after the leaves have fallen. So it will be attractive as well. We have a couple of months to figure it out before the planting takes place.
Tonight we walk to Mauro and Laura's to talk about Festarolo business. We appreciate this chance to get to know them better.
July 20
Dino has designed a pergola for our terrace. He loves that kind of detail work, with measures of every possible angle. We drive to Unopiu to have them mock up a suggested pergola, knowing that it will be too much money, but wanting to get their perspective anyway.
They have a number of interesting pergola units, but not just what we want. We come home with some ideas, and as we drive up the hill and open the cancello, we find Sofi standing outside the gate waiting for us! However did she get there?
She does not seem frightened, and I'm wondering if she's been there for some time. We check, and the gates are all closed. We remember seeing her right by the front door when we closed the side gate. Dino thinks the side gate is too high for her to jump, and her head is too large to fit through the squares of the fence.
Did she dig a hole below the fence? We can't seem to find one. But now we know she must be left in the house when we're gone. It's too hot to take her with us in the middle of the day. Poor Sofi. We're so relieved she was not hurt by a car in our absence.
We have an appointment to look at a house in Tenaglie for a client, and the owner and his muratore go over what needs to be done before an offer is made. We find a number of very characteristic things in the house, all of which the owner agrees to leave.
Room by room, we uncover treasures. If the client buys the property, they're suggesting that we oversee the restoration, so that they can return in June to a finished house. That's a potential dream assignment, and now the details of the house and the possibilities float through my subconscious as if it's our property.
Yes, this is what the Italian experience should be about. And we intend to make the transition a wonderful one for our clients, if they move ahead after hearing the details of the preventivo from a prospective muratore to do the work.
The muratore is a character right out of the Renaissance. His name is Pierluigi and his dark olive complexion and black long hair are only two of his many incredible features. The rest is for you to imagine, unless you are buying the house and can see for yourself...
We stop at Don and Mary's house down the street, and Mary knew someone was at the house, for she saw the open windows. "L'airea parla" (the air speaks), we told her when we confirmed that we were right around the corner.
For the rest of the evening, we debate about how Sofi got outside the gate this morning. Even after doing a test where Dino opens the gate and I walk down to sit on the bench outside, with Sofi on the front terrace crying for me, we can not figure out what she did. She just sat inside the gate and cried. So for now, she has to stay in the kitchen if we leave without her.
Tonight we all go to Oktoberfest for their Mexican festa, and Pino and Julia and Giada are there from Brazil. Unfortunately, Kenya did not join them. The young girls are growing up and beautiful, or perhaps we're just growing old.
The night is warm, and we are tired of the incessant heat. But we talk a little more about the pergola, and agree that we will use wisteria instead of kiwi vines and that Silvano from Amelia or Virgilio will make the supports. If we can, we'll move ahead with getting a price to paint the house first, for once the pergola goes up, it will be difficult to put scaffolding around the house.
Did I tell you that my newly made ceramic pieces from last week finally all look fine? They sit on a side table in the living room under wet kitchen towels and wet newspaper, and hardly a crack is evident on any of the pieces. This is the way they are to dry, slowly, slowly. It will be another several days before I'm confident that they are dry enough to take them to Elena. For now, they're taking their sweet time, and that's fine with me.
July 21
It feels so good to "sleep in", and this morning I do so until after 8 A M. Without anything on the agenda today, we can spend a "dolce fa niente"(sweet nothing). This phrase is usually used to describe the afternoon snooze that Italians love to take after pranzo. And it allows them to stay up late, very late at night and eat late, too. We're sliding into that groove without even realizing it.
All right. So we've agreed that we're going to plant wisteria on our pergola on the front terrace. Depending on the final outcome of the pergola design, we may even replace the cachi tree as well as the giant laurel. So for those of you who are gasping, here's why...
The laurel tree is as big as the house. It is uprooting the foundation under the loggia, cracking the side wall, and that's only what's transpiring this year. I love the shade, which has become predominant in only the last couple of years. But its time will come when we replace the loggia roof. That will probably be next year.
Regarding the cachi, we love the shade, but the fruit is monstrous. This year's count will be well over 4,000. If not pruned now, we will have 4,000 sloppy orange pools of goo each November and December on the terrace gravel.
Friends here concur that it's just too hot to sit outside here in the summertime unless it's past 8PM. So a pergola with a prolific vine is the answer. The trees will stay until we are sure about the pergola and its effectiveness.
So we've decided on a pergola and a vine on the side of the terrace in front of the kitchen. For a few weeks, we vacillated between kiwi and wisteria as the vine. Wisteria has won out, because it is so very beautiful, its pendulous shapes so delicate. Kiwi is a good idea, the fruit looks lovely until December even after leaves have fallen, but the leaves begin to look too overbearing.
Now that we've chosen wisteria, there are three types to choose from, and we are in a quandary. There is Chinese wisteria, which is the most fragrant, the most invasive and winds around from right to left; then there is the Japanese, which is less fragrant, more delicate, and winds from left to right.
Finally, there is the American wisteria called Amethyst Falls, which is smaller, will still grow 20-30' in length and has smaller leaves and flowers. Its flowers cascade like a waterfall. The American variety is less invasive. A number of sites tell us not to buy wisteria plants unless they are in flower, for many don't flower for years, and a flowering plant is one way to assure that the plant will, well...flower.
Some sites indicate that the American and Japanese wisteria flower later, which I think is good. We don't need May flowering, which is what the Chinese type provides, for the rest of our garden is in flower then. What we need is flowering in July, which is now, when it is hot and the roses are not as prolific.
So the latest decision is between the Japanese and the American varieties of wisteria. So perhaps we'll see some nurseries to see if there are some wisterias in bloom. Now we need to choose the color of the wisteria. I'm leaning toward a pale blue-lavender. When our house is painted and we finally have our wooden windows and shutters, the house will be painted pale yellow and the shutters a pale blue with a touch of lavender. We're getting closer...
Perhaps a trip to our pals at Michellini is in order this week. In the meantime, Dino continues to draft the design for the pergola, which will be iron, and we talk and talk and talk about the actual dimensions, the overall design, how wide it should be, how tall it should be, how long it should be.
Stefano tells us we won't need a permit if we don't build pillars for the wisteria to grow against. So we've come up with the idea of having Carlo Berti make beautiful pale terra cotta square planters from which the plants and the iron will grow. We'll insulate the iron poles that will go into the earth, and the poles themselves will be square and substantial.
The top of the pergola will probably be at least 270", with an arched top and x-bracing that will look beautiful during the winter, when there will be no leaves on the wisteria. Hanging pendant lamps will drop from the center of each of three x's.
The pergola will stand on its own, with nothing anchored into the side of the house. After reading today, I'm thinking that none of the plants will be planted next to the house either, for they might tear up cement and even the foundations of the house. Originally, we planned to have two or three planted against the house. Not now.
We usually have great success with our projects, for we work slowly and methodically on them, brainstorming and saying a lot of "What if's?" and doing a lot of research before we've committed to a final design.
The next steps are to take a look at some nurseries and choose the particular color and type of wisteria, based on the color and size of their blossoms, and to bring in the painter, who needs to give us a preventivo for painting the house before we build the pergola.
Dino will build the pergola like an erector set with Stefano, and our friend Silvano in Amelia or Virgilio in Bomarzo will supply the pieces. Last night, while sitting on a bench on the terrace after dark, I mused that it would be great to have all these projects done so that we could just rest and enjoy them.
With that, Dino looked at me in dismay. It is the thinking about these projects, and orchestrating their completion, that brings him the most joy. Perhaps he lived at the Winchester Mystery House in a former life.
Earlier this morning, Dino picked up four pieces that Elena finished firing.
I'm much happier with the ceramics that are drying in the living room too, for they are drying slowly, still damp, and the cracks are just about gone. Elena agrees that we should take up to a week more to dry these, then all the pieces will be fired.
My latest quandary is with the smalto, the dreaded smalto. Elena seems to use a sprayer to spray smalto on her ceramics before painting. Do I have her spray the ceramics, do we call Marco and drive to Terni to have me smalto from the bin where I smaltoed most of my pieces before, or do we purchase smalto in Deruta and do I dip them myself here?
I'm not in favor of the third option. So for now I'll continue to paint the smaltoed items we still have, and then we'll decide. I have no idea which way to turn. None of the options are just right.
Yesterday, Silvano Spaccese came to work on the tomatoes, and told Dino that they all look good. He smiled when Dino told him that we'll eat the tomatoes from the smallest plants in December, which is how long they'll take to mature.
Who knows what went wrong with those heirloom seeds? We still have not eaten any fruit from the first of our 36 plants started from seed in February. We are way behind our harvesting from years past.
He also agreed to refinish the front door. Finally we have someone to take this important project on whom we can trust! He tells us which products to purchase in Viterbo, and before September he'll take the wood back down and build it up again.
Why Anselmo, the man who made the door in the first place, chose to restain it incorrectly when coming back a year after it was finished, is beyond us. He did not want to return a second time to repair his mess, so we've given up on him. But it has taken over four years to arrive at this solution.
Every stranieri family living in Italy needs a Silvano, a Stefano and a Mario. These are the three craftspeople we rely on to give us great counsel, and to perform exceptional work with joy and heartfelt enthusiasm. I cannot imagine their counterparts in the U. S. That is one of the reasons we love living here so much.
With Sofi in the kitchen on this warmest day of the year so far (well over 100 degrees), we drive to Tony and Pat's for cocktails and then to the Alviano Scalo sagra di cinghiale (wild boar). Yesterday Dino was told we don't need reservations.
We surely don't need reservations, for there are plenty of tables. The food is really good, with each of us scarfing down pappardelle al cinghiale, and the others eating dishes of cinghiale cooked like a kind of stew without the stew, melon and prosciutto and a grilled maile (pork) chop for Dino, plus wine and beer.
Afterward, we walk around the dance floor and watch ragazzi on rides and trampolines. Italians seem to feel that nothing can happen to them. Americans think, "It better be safe, or I'll sue..."
We drive our friends to Walter's bar in Sipicciano for gelato and then drive them home. Before arriving in Mugnano, we stop at Oktoberfest to see if we can locate the fellow who we might want to hire for our Ferragosto music. He's available, but not cheap. We'll figure it out tomorrow.
It's still very hot when we arrive home to a relieved and happy Sofi, and I open the shutters wide in the bedroom to find a sky full of stars. It is a really lovely night.
July 22
Yesterday was the hottest day of the year so far, with temperatures soaring to 104 degrees. The forecast continues to be hot, with today's temperatures in the region expected to reach 100.
This morning the wood choppers have returned, and we're awakened to the sound of their clattering. Since Dino waters in the mornings these days, he's late getting up, and needs a nudge. Usually he's up before 7AM, puttering around the garden. We have a number of irrigation systems that he has put in place, and they all work well, but there are still some plants not on the system.
Antonio stops by on his vespa and tells Dino that we'll have our wood delivered very soon. So the sounds this morning were Antonio and Mario stacking the wood to deliver it to the residents of Mugnano, not the Romanian men, who by this time have probably returned home.
I recall that the deal that Antonio struck with them, as president of the Università Agraria, was that they would leave enough cut wood for the people of the village. Dino will ready the angle of the parcheggio for the stacked wood, a spot designed just for this purpose.
We remind him to stop by tomorrow with Paola to discuss what they would like me to make for a wedding present. They will be married in about ten days, and we are so happy for them.
The ceramic dishes that I made two weeks ago and stored in the living room look quite good, with not many cracks and the forms drying slowly, as we know they must. I add more wet newspaper as a kind of blanket, and a wet kitchen dishtowel to each one. If it takes another week, so be it.
In the loggia, I start to paint the already smaltoed items. I remember that there was one chalice that I painted months ago that still sits in the serra on a shelf, unfired. Now I paint the companion chalice, in the event Paola and Antonio want them. But I am not so sure about the smalto, because these two pieces have sat around for some months. If they want them, I'll do two more in the event these don't fire perfectly.
When painting, I feel more accomplished, more sure of my brush strokes, more sure of my ability to paint. And I so love to paint. While Dino drives to Viterbo to pick up a roast chicken and do errands, Sofi and I sit in the loggia while I paint. It is very hot, although there is a breeze, and I play the Pearl Fishers on a little CD player behind me.
By the time we have to get ready to go out, I've painted five pieces. I don't like stopping, but look forward to the evening ahead. I'm sorry Sofi won't be able to join us.
Matthew and Terri invite us for pizza by the pool, and it is a magnificent pool on an incredible estate, Villa Maddelena in Amelia. Many of our expat friends are there, and a band playing music right out of Terri's New Orleans rocks the night away.
Yes, there is pizza, but there is a groaning board of many, many appetizers beforehand, and plenty to drink. We're served individual Baba ah Rhums for dolci, and Dino does not remember eating one of these Napolitano treats before.
I remember them from my childhood, when my father would take me to the North End of Boston on a Saturday night after the store closed, and we'd eat supper at Gino's and then have baba ah Rhum at Cafˇ Roma on Hanover Street. Tonight is a very different scene.
I imagine a toga party in this setting right out of an ancient Roman villa, and Terri likes the idea. I'm not referring to a frat party, but to an authentic Roman party. Wonder what it would be like?
Well, I'm bowled over, for Dino actually asks me to dance. It is a Rolling Stones piece of music, I think called "Brown Sugar". He's so cute on the dance floor, and it's been so many years since we've danced a fast dance together. We leave about midnight, and drive home while it's still hot. Sofi bounds out of the house and settles right by me once we're upstairs. It's still so very hot and so very good to be home.
July 23
Sofi stays in the kitchen while we walk up to church, passing by some of the neighbors who sit on benches in the shade or in front of their houses. They nod their heads, not wanting to move in the heat to save energy.
Don Bruno leans over a pepperino balustrade in the little garden at the top of the hill to the borgo, deep in thought. We pass him, and then wait outside the church with other parishioners until the very last moment to enter.
I stand at the back of the little church to speak with Tiziano for a moment, with Dino moving forward to sit in the last pew. Visitors have taken up our regular seats. Then Franca arrives with little Andrea and before we know it, they've taken my seat next to Dino. So I sit with Tiziano against the back wall.
This is a good vantage point to take in the entire congregation. A low shadow crosses the pews from a high window, and in several spots, colored fans click silently back and forth, moving like little butterflies in a field.
I bring the large fan with Chinese lettering that Giovanna purchased for me in Rome last year. But it is noisy, so the creak, creak of it as I move it geisha-like with my eyes downcast causes women to turn their heads to zero in on the location of the sound, as if I am a bumblebee.
"The lord is my shepherd, I shall not want..." When translated to Italian, it becomes, "Il Signore il mio pastore, Non manca di nulla."
In this case, the stanzas seem to lose their sense of poetry. So is it in the imagination of the Italian that the poetry of these lines comes to life? I wonder, since there are so many fewer words in the Italian language to express thought. This is a conundrum.
And I wonder on a deeper level if the conscious and subconscious levels of the Italian mind are essentially more lyrical in character. It is a subject for discussion with someone who speaks both languages fluently. Perhaps I'll speak with Duccio on Friday about it.
Outside church, Felice asks us where we were on Friday morning. He came for a visit, telling us Sofi was there to greet him, but that we were gone. And then a light goes off in my head. That's how Sofi got out!
When he opened the gate to leave, she snuck out. He is not very attentive these days, nor can he see that well. So it makes sense that she could have run out of the front gate while he was turning to close it and put the lock back on.
We don't mention it to him, but look at each other with great relief. The garden remains a safe place for Sofi, although on these days if we leave without her it may make better sense to keep her inside with the fan working away.
Mauro and Livio agree to the performer for the 14th of August, and Dino will call him to book him today. Tomorrow the poster for the Ferrragosto manifesto will be printed.
We stop at Paola's and are wide-eyed at the modern style of the house, juxtaposed with the ancient stone. It looks very interesting, with chatreuse kitchen tiles, black iron stairs with castagno steps and glass sides and parquet floors. They'll come tonight for a visit and I'll have to do some research about making them something very modern for their new house. It's an interesting challenge, and one that I'll enjoy.
The day warms up and up and up and I don't even want to know how much. Thunder arrives in the distance, and dirty dark clouds, but there is no rain. The sky remains heavy and humid.
Paola and Antonio arrive for a visit, and we sit out on the terrace. Dino wants to make t-shirts from an ancient drawing on the map of Mugnano, and shows Antonio the design. We'll drive to Viterbo tomorrow to the place he recommends, and perhaps the Festarolo committee will have them made for Ferragosto. Dino is happy.
Dino is also happy that Mauro and Livio agreed on the entertainment Dino came up with for August 14th, so he calls and confirms the date. Tomorrow the posters will be printed, and our work is done...for now.
Antonio wants me to exhibit during Ferragosto, along with a couple of other artisans of Mugnano. I agree, now we'll have to pick up some stands for the dishes and the big bowl. I'm hoping the stemma of Mugnano will be finished, and that it will look all right. Now I want to finish the plates I've made and paint them in an elaborate way. Not that I want to sell them. I'm not sure how I feel about standing around while people gather and stare. It will be a good experience, I suppose.
There is a design I saw in a magazine, a kind of acanthus leaf scroll, set at an angle, and I decide to draw it in my sketch book, but at the correct angle. It is quite elaborate. Once I have the design finished well, I decide to draw the mirror image of it on the facing page of the sketch book. Later it will become an elaborate design that I will copy and trace and draw on something ceramic.
Now, I am aware that I don't have the kind of brain to be able to draw mirror images in detail, other than to know that I can read upside down and backwards. But I want to train my mind to do that, so work slowly and the design begins to unfold.
So about this aptitude of mine to read upside down and backward...
When I was a young girl, I sat on the carpet in front of a tall mirror leaning against a wall in front of me. I looked in the mirror and saw writing. Deciding to figure out what it said, I took my time with it and then became obsessed with the idea of being able to read upside down and backward.
I somehow acquired the skill, and in later years could read what was on someone's desk whom I came to visit. It was a very interesting trait to have. And now I turn the design upside down to see if it will help me to decipher it. It is a very good thing to be able to do for the drawing I do in preparation for orchestrating an elaborate design on ceramics.
I feel as if it is stretching my brain, and that's a good thing. The more creative outlets I have, the happier I am. And this week, I want to paint and paint and paint...
July 24
Today is Terence's birthday. We're sorry we can't be with him, but called him yesterday to wish him well. We also called Uncle Harry, who is back at home but not doing well at all. He has hospice care, and Aunt Elaine right by his side. We think it's hot here at around 105 degrees until Aunt Elaine tells Dino that it's 120 degrees there in Borrego Springs. It's balmy here, compared to that!
Kisses to you, dear Uncle Harry.
On this hot and steamy day, thunder rolls through the valley while Dino shops in Viterbo, and I rush around the terrace closing up umbrellas and chasing the lighter ones across the property. Thunderstorms in Italy arrive with a vengeance, and drops as big as dimes plop, wind howls and it's as though we're in the hurricanes of my youth.
The temperature cools off, but the storm continues long after Dino returns. He has found a place to make t-shirts, and they'll have a test one ready for him tomorrow. We have the design for a Mugnano t-shirt, and he wants to have them for Ferragosto. The suppliers similar to those he used in the U S are difficult to locate. But then again, we're not talking about a large order.
I've painted every last ceramic piece that has smalto upon it, and have also repaired each one to make sure they are all ready to fire. Tomorrow we'll take them to Elena. And then we'll probably call Marco in Terni to see if we can dip the other pieces we have there. I'm sure it won't be a problem, especially since we'll pay him.
We have nine 20 cm tiles, so I paint them as a set of flowered tiles, not knowing where they'll go. I'm now interested in doing some complex designs, as well as the stemmas for a few close friends, so look forward to starting something new soon.
There's no news of Uncle Harry as we go up to bed, so we say a prayer for him as we turn in.
July 25
We wake to a clear sky and fragrant smells from yesterday's storm. The view is blindingly bright. Leaves on the trees reflect the sunlight like a sunscreen, so glossy from the drops that lingered that the site of it all leaves me squinting.
Old Vito lies curled up on the gravel, blown off his little chair by last night's wind. I first notice his lifeless form when closing the shutters upstairs to protect us from this afternoon's sun. Lulu's safe in the olive tree, looking a little bedraggled and wet, but in better shape than the old man. We've had no real damage from the storm.
Tony and Pat arrive for some advice, medical and opera related. They will attend opening night at the Narni opera tonight, and will let us know how it goes. Our tickets are for later in the run. They are worried about their seats. We are worried about our friend Giovanni Destilo, who is producing the event and has a lot on his mind with the surprise rain last night. We hope the sets are all right.
This is a day of remembering events and places we loved. With the rain, we think of the many years we worked behind the scenes at the Mountain Play on Mount Tamalpais above San Francisco. Rain meant a disastrous situation financially. We always gave away more tickets to future performances and often refunded money. Arts groups are almost never prepared for bad weather, no matter what they seem to say.
During one performance day of The King and I, those of us on the board who were present huddled a number of times with the director before the play began. Should we cancel? We held our breaths, and kept the performance intact. Early in the performance, with the youngest performers huddled in blankets while they waited between their scenes on stage, we prayed. And then there was THE MOMENT:
"And Buddha told the sun to come out..." the King extolled, his arms raised wide... and at that moment the sun actually did. The audience roared and applauded, literally stopping the show. We knew at that moment that we did the right thing by not canceling the show. And then there was the day of the bomb scare. And the rainouts...Those events, those experiences, those friends whose lives we shared, we will never forget.
So Giovanni is on our mind today, but I am distracted. Although we've dropped off the rest of the ceramic pieces to be fired at Elena's, we need to return to put a drop of smalto on one of the chalices. So we decide to drive to the Faggetta, the Beechwood forest above Soriano, for a couple of paninis for pranzo and will stop at her studio along the way.
After Tony and Pat leave, we take our smalto and also a happy Sofia, and leave Mugnano by way of the street we call Acqua Puzza, or dirty water. We run into Anna and her husband, Mark, visiting here for a few days. Her parents are the Swedish couple that bought the white house below us. We ask them if they'd like to join us, and off we all go.
First we stop at Elena's, and she advises me how to repair the uncooked dishes that keep cracking. She has six of ours to cook, but three of them are still at home, and no matter what I do, the cracks keep coming back. She wants to fire them all together.
She advises me to make a mixture of argilla (clay) and white wine vinegar and water. That way, when the mixture begins to seal, it will eat away a little at the argilla and somehow makes a seal instead of crack. Otherwise, the clay will continue to dry just as it has all along, with cracks appearing here and there. So I bring a container with a little argilla, a bottle of vinegar and she mixes the consistency, so that I can see what the percentage of vinegar to water and argilla are.
Elena is so patient with me. On Friday all the pieces except for the ones that need their first bake will be ready. That's over twenty pieces. I know we give her ongoing business, but her shop is so small that I worry that some day she'll turn us away. And I really don't want to have my own oven.
I really don't want to make my own pieces, either. I'm not really enjoying this exercise. So if I make a few more pieces, I'd like to do it in her shop with her supervising, so that this drying process won't be an issue. I recall that the first dish I made came out perfectly. So I'm aiming for a little more perfection.
We arrive at the Faggetta, the beech wood forest, and it has the smell of Mount Tam. The trails are loosely defined, the trees enormous, with pale lacy leaves dancing in the sunlight. Near the parking lot is a huge moving rock, and we want to know more. It is enough for us today to know that we can rock it a little by moving a castagno pole stuck under it. We're feeling a little like Jack under the Beanstalk.
Then we walk around the silent forest for a while, the only sound that of cicadas high above us. The smell is the smell we remember of Mt. Tam, especially fragrant after yesterday's rain. Here we are remembering again. So when we are missing those walks on our beloved Mount Tam, we can come here and walk.
This is a lovely and peaceful place. On the way out, a walking stick leans against the trunk of an ancient tree. Someone has abandoned it, and it appears made for Dino. He takes it and walks with it, telling me it is the perfect height. It seems to say, "Take me, Dino!" It will be a wonderful memory of this day.
We eat panini (sandwiches) on wooden picnic benches, but our pranzo is cut short by the bees (apes) that are so aggressive that many wind up in our drinks. Then we drive home by way of Vitorchiano, so that our friends can do a little grocery shopping for the rest of their trip.
When we drop them off, we notice that our firewood is stored in the open field across from their house. Not much is left, and Pepe and Dino are supposed to bring ours up in Pepe's tractor one of these days. So I ask Dino if he'll see Pepe later this afternoon to confirm.
I'd hate to have our firewood disappear before we're able to pick it up. And I'd love a photo of Dino on Pepe's tractor. I know he'd really love to drive the tractor himself, but it's enough for me to get a picture of him standing tall, our firewood stacked high behind them.
We'll walk up to the village later to find Pepe, and perhaps Paola and Antonio's wood floors have been delivered, so there'll be more to see at their new house. I want to speak with them about making modern dessert plates for them to match their color scheme of chatreuse and black and white.
I've not painted anything very modern before, so it will be an interesting exercise. Perhaps I can borrow one of the green tiles to match the color.
Dino keeps our schedule on his palm pilot, but for some reason did not check today's schedule. We missed my pedicure with Giusy, and I am so very sorry. It is terrible to miss an appointment, especially when the person could have given the appointment to someone else. I call to apologize, and her colleague thanks me for calling. I will reschedule.
I have nothing to paint. My hands are itching. So I add some of the newly mixed argilla to the leaf platter, and later will do the same with the two pirofila dishes. I do an inventory of the other dishes we have that need smalto before being painted, and perhaps that means we should call Marco in Terni to see if we can dip the pieces there soon.
We agree that I should make a set of dinner plates for us. I know the shape of the plates we want, so perhaps we will do that this next month, if we agree to smalto them at Marco's. First I'd like to paint all the other pieces we have stored in the serra, and then make a stemma for Duccio, a stemma for Helga, and a special plate for Franco and Candida. That will take us up to the time of the trip to the U S, so there will be more pieces to make for that trip. Our dinner plates loom farther and farther away.
Right now, I'm doing a lot of drawing. I'm practicing forms, elaborate figures, and think I'd like to take a private lesson or two from Monia. I have a picture from our Madonna calendar of a Madonna and Child from June that I think is lovely. I've watched other women in the class paint elaborate figures of women on ceramic plates, so perhaps I'm ready to give it a try. We'll call her the next time we drive to Deruta.
Dino drives to Viterbo to pick up a t-shirt that has been made with the Mugnano design. He has a second one made with a different imprint, so we may have t-shirts ready to sell at Ferragosto after all.
The phone rings, and it is the call we have dreaded. Dearest Uncle Harry passed away early this morning. We call and call to reach Aunt Elaine, finally reaching her close to midnight our time. She is such a gracious woman, so full of love.
These are the times that are so difficult when we are so far away from those we love. So we can call her often, and we will. For now, she wants to stay in Borrego Springs. Time will tell whether she will move closer to relatives. But for now, she has guests with her, and the love of her family, which is immense.
Here's a photo, taken earlier this year. It is one we love of dear Uncle Harry going for a walk with Marissa and Nicole:
Earlier, I told Tony that when we have attended arts performances that were cancelled, we usually donated the tickets back. Tony's back stiffened right up. He told me they donate to many causes in Cleveland, but when it comes to tickets, he wants his refund! All I can silently say is, "Boh!"
July 26
The air is so heavy when we arise, that we're hoping the fog will clear. We can see that the sun is trying very hard to dissipate what appears to be a thin layer of fog. How hot will it be today?
Giusy forgives me when I call to make a new appointment. From now on, Dino agrees to set an alarm on his Palm Pilot for any future appointments. My memory is spotty at best these days, and that's just how it is. So I agree that this is the way to assure that we won't miss anything in the future. It's so weird getting older.
Dino picks up a tomato processor at a really good price, so we're ready to go to work putting up tomatoes. But none of ours are ready yet. Last night Rosina told us that we took our fave beans out and planted the tomatoes a little late. So Dino told her and the women she was with, that that's fine. We'll have them for Christmas! No one expects us to know what we're doing in the garden. After all, we were not born in Italia...
Tony calls to say that he switched his Narni opera tickets for another night, after arriving at the amphitheatre an hour early for last night's performance to spotty showers. We check on the weather, and no showers are expected today, but we do have them in the afternoon anyway.
Actually we have a lot of rain, and a power outage. Dino likes to call ENEL when this happens to find out when the power will be restored. In California, PG&E had a recorded message. Here a man answers and tells Dino not to worry. The power will be restored; just don't worry about it.
Mauro arrives for a short meeting of the Festarolo Committee and likes the t-shirt design. We show him by candlelight. Tomorrow Dino will order 50 of them. Once they're gone, he will take orders to determine if we should order a lot more. They are really a wonderful design, taken from the 1810 painting on the wall of the Università Agraria of Mugnano and the surrounding area. Here's the sample shirt worn by our friend and neighbor, Andrea.
While opening the shutters, there is a thin pink horizon under a clear navy blue sky, with two stars looking down on us. Cicadas click away as if they're snoring, so we might as well go to bed.
July 26
I wake with a start because I'm sure I hear Pepe on his big tractor. I'm imagining he's driving it down to pick up our firewood, and wonder if Dino will join him. It's a guy thing, so I don't ask.
I've finished drawing an elaborate design for a large round plate, so it's time to check in with Marco about the smalto. I still have to transfer the design to tracing paper and then punch the little dots in it. Isn't there an easier way?
When I ask different artists, they all tell me the same thing. This is how it has been done for hundreds of years. After I've punched the tiny holes, I lay the design over the smaltoed ceramic and then use a piece of cotton sock filled with carbon dust, bouncing the bag over the design so that the tiny flecks of carbon fill the holes.
The carbon dust makes the design, which I then paint, and since the carbon dissolves in the firing process, it all seems to work out. Perhaps that's why I'd rather paint the design freehand. This design is very complex, so I don't trust myself that I'll be able to line it up correctly. And we have time, since the plate still needs a dipping of smalto.
I finish the tracing, punching the dots, and Dino agrees to call Marco so that we can drive to Terni to smalto some of our pieces. I can't seem to stop working on the ceramics. Now that our life is fairly simple, I like having something to look forward to, something I can work on creatively.
For their wedding present, Paola and Antonio agree that I should paint them six dessert plates in a geometric pattern, and I've not painted anything modern, so it will be a stretch for me. I like that. I think we'll pick up six modern dessert plates in Deruta first, hopefully in the next week or so. But my next things to paint will be another stemma and a large round platter, with my latest design.
We're about to have rain this afternoon, and a thunderstorm or two, so I shut down the computer and we have a dolce fa niente after pranzo, reading our latest books. It's such a sweet life.
The sky clears and we have no rain, but the humidity has us dragging. We have an early night and check email to see that Mitch Woods is in Rome and will be around for a few dates. We'll see if we can catch up with him to hear a little boogie-woogie.
July 28
I wake with a full-blown migraine, but check the barometric pressure on the internet and it has not changed markedly. So that reason for the migraine does not hold up today.
The heat holds up, however, and it is sunny. We should have good weather for tonight's opera. Let's hope I can shake this monster before the day is out.
With a snooze off and on, I'm still not able to shake the migraine. The afternoon sky clouds over, but there is no rain. The air feels heavy and full of moisture just the same. And we get dressed and leave with Candida and Franco, driving to Duccio and Giovanna's.
Duccio drives us all to the opera in Narni Scalo, and Dino and I sit in the back of their six-seater van. We find a place to park right near the outdoor theatre, but in Italian style, can't enter until fifteen minutes before the performance. At the appointed time we file in Italian style, about a dozen people across, and hand over our tickets.
Despite many tickets from Tuesday's opening night opera exchanged for tonight's performance due to rain, the theatre is less than half full. It is a balmy evening, and we like our seats, right in the middle three rows up from the orchestra seats. At least we like them until the orchestra starts up, for they are difficult to hear.
The orchestra is placed right under the stage, their sounds muffled. Although the conductor thrashes his arms to get his players to play with gusto, it remains difficult to hear. In this theatre, as well as the famous arena in Verona, there are no microphones or speakers. The sounds are more natural, but not easy to hear. We resign ourselves that we'll not be able to enjoy the music itself and decide to concentrate on the visuals and the voices.
We're relieved to find that the voices of the singers are perfectly audible, the sets inventive and the dancers marvelous. Actually, the performance is marvelous and completely professional. There are, however, a few things that catch our eye.
Tonight, the choice of Radames, the hero in love with Aida, looks a little, well, a lot like Jackie Gleason. His voice almost makes up for his portly appearance. Almost. But when he turns and walks across the stage he's like an apple on a stick. It is a pity. His voice and his actions are every bit the part.
Aida is on the heavy side, which helps the few scenes with the two of them in romantic poses. Her voice is grand. She is an excellent choice, and when the two of them lie in a heap together on the stage at the end, we're sad. This is a very sad opera, no matter the size of the actors. But a signature opera of many of the opera companies in Italy? We can't figure that out.
The drama of opera reminds me of the words of Jim Dunn, the director for years of The Mountain Play on Mt. Tam in California. "Play it big!" he'd tell his actors. In opera, especially outdoor opera, characters play it big to get their point across.
Billowy long costumes help, too. Each time an actor wants to exclaim, they whip their costume to the right or left, turning in pivot fashion. When we see a pivot, we know to expect drama. Especially when we don't really understand what they're saying.
We love the dance sequences, the choreographed fighting, with characters seemingly suspended in mid-air as they thrash about. What magnificent form these characters take on!
We're able to speak with Giovanni during one of the many intermissions, and he tells us that most of the important dignitaries on hand for opening night returned tonight. So he is happy. And with Hermelyn by his side, he just beams. She's so lovely in her "about to be a mother" gown, and he's very happy, no matter the number of seats that have been sold.
We give him great marks for this first year's opera, and hope that he can continue this opera on an annual basis. We'll certainly attend next year if he does. Our friends also agree. So we arrive home very, very late but happily so. It's been a lovely evening.
July 29
My migraine is better, not completely so, but better enough that we can drive to Terni to Marco's shop to smalto some of my greenware. Dino lines it up and on the way, we stop to wrap up some of the small items. They won't be included today.
We'll just have to take the next step soon and buy our own smalto, dipping the pieces at home. I'd rather not, but we find that Marco charges so much to smalto the pieces we have that it's not worth the time or the trips back and forth with the ceramics.
Marco tells us that we just missed the Terni outdoor opera. This year they performed Carmen, and we would have loved that. Marco sang in the chorus, and we're sorry about missing the performance. It just slipped off our radar screen.
Marco's very helpful, dipping some of the larger pieces and giving me pointers when I take a turn. I get a bravo or two from him as well for my efforts, so agree with Dino that we'll buy the powder soon in Deruta and mix it up in the loggia.
I'll have to email Paola. She told us when we were there that she has a thermometer to use to gauge the amount of water needed for the mix to be accurate, so I'll ask her about that. Then we can be sure of what we are doing.
I always love hearing Dino talk about anything that has to do with chemistry. With his film lab days behind him, he still has the ability to solve this kind of challenge easily. And he enjoys doing it, too. He's my technical advisor on the ceramics, especially with the smalto, or undercoat.
We stop at Iper Coop, the large supermarket in Terni, and it's a really good store. I'm not really in the mood to shop, but like seeing all the good produce, all the choices. It's not always so in Italy.
Dino watches the time trials while we have pranzo, and the skies cloud over, with thunder and a shower or two. We take an afternoon nap, and when we awake the rain has passed, and we're left with a cooler, if humid, afternoon.
Mitch Woods emailed us yesterday that he's performing not too far from here, but I'm not really feeling up to another late night drive. So we pass, and perhaps we'll see him while he's still in Italy.
I'm looking forward to starting to paint on a big round platter, and that's just what I think I'll do. But when I arrive downstairs the phone rings and it is Maria in Tenaglie. Don left the bathroom window open in his house last week, and the shutters have been blowing in the rain storms. We tell her we'll be right over.
We thank her for her kindness, Dino shuts the window and we check to make sure everything is all right. Since we're in Tenaglie, we stop at another client's house and ask about the muratore's quote. We have clients who want to buy his parents house nearby.
But the owner tells us the muratore is on vacation until next week. It's these little details that Dino is so good about. And it's why it sometimes takes longer than someone would like to buy a property in Italy. We're happy we can help make the transition smoother.
We stop to pick up some lattuga Romana plugs, and Dino plants them when we arrive home. Mauro arrives a while later, and we catch up on festarolo business. It's not as much work as we originally thought, and a fair amount of fun. With Dino's Mugnano t-shirts almost ready to sell, he'll have another activity to keep him busy with the villagers.
I'm itching to get started on my large platter. Now I'm imagining it will be all in blue, mostly pale with outlines of darker blue on a white background. We are really needing a store room....
But first we need to have the outside of the house painted, and Dino agrees to call the painter next week. He is anxious to get the pergola started this fall, so we have to paint first. There's always something.
July 30
The heat continues, and so does the humidity. We walk up to church knowing that we'll be doing a "giro" to collect for the festarolo committee after mass. Dino wears his Mugnano t-shirt, and when we walk around the village he stands there with his chest out, not saying anything. He takes orders for 17 shirts...They'll arrive tomorrow or Tuesday.
It is so hot it is an effort to breathe. Whenever we can, we sidle up to the side of the street to hide in the shade while we ring doorbells. Livio loves to sell raffle tickets, and has a way about him. He could probably sell all 2,000 of them himself. Our sales are modest, but we're thinking Dino's idea of the t-shirts will make as much money as the raffle.
The shirts look great, and although Mauro only wanted a small order, we'll probably place a second order at the beginning of September. Once a few people start to wear the shirt, everyone will want one. I think it will be funny to see everyone in the village wearing the same shirt, somewhat like a staged movie scene.
Antonio gives me a tile from their kitchen, and Dino thinks I should paint one of my early designs on the plates. I want to do more research, but am happy that I have the correct shade of green for the plates...
At home we can't wait to change and sit by the fan. We are so "small town" here, that we don't have air conditioning. It has not really been a problem, but temperatures over the past two weeks have hovered around 100 degrees every day.
I get my wish, and after pranzo sit in the kitchen painting a huge round platter. Six hours later Livio and Giuliola arrive to place a t-shirt order, and I've just about finished the piece. It's blue on a white background, quite elaborate, and a design all my own.
It's really a thrill to know that I have actually learned something from Monia after all those weeks in the workshop in Terni. We'll take the piece to Elena tomorrow and hope to have it back before Ferragosto. I'll paint another Mugnano stemma starting tomorrow or so, wanting some larger pieces ready in the event I have to put an exhibit together in a couple of weeks.
We might drive to L'Aquila on Tuesday to meet up with Mitch Woods, who has a gig there at a blues festival. We've never been to L'Aquila, so look forward to it. We don't, however, look forward to leaving Sofi for a long time. We'll try to get someone to watch her...
July 31
We're posting twice a month these days, and it's easier for us to do it this way. I can't really imagine that people read the journal, but they do.
The swallows (rondine) have returned, and on a visit from Felice and Marsiglia this afternoon, they tell us that it means that we'll have a thunderstorm soon. Good. It's so hot and humid that I'm hopeful it will cool things off.
I paint most of the Mugnano stemma on a large square platter today, and it brings back my migraine. Dino thinks it's a neck thing, and that I spend too many hours painting at one time. First it's my shoulder, so I can't play the violin. Now it's my neck and my headaches. I'm feeling like a rag doll, with no part of me in control.
I've repaired the smalto on the big round platter, and I hope it will be ready to take to Elena tomorrow. The three other pieces that are drying in the living room all look fairly good. Perhaps we can take those, too, although they need a few more days to dry before firing. Perhaps Elena can sit them all in the forno while they wait. We'll see if she thinks that's a good idea, and if she has room for them in her little studio.
The month ends with me wondering if my migraines are back, or if it's just the really hot weather that continues unabated. I've had at least two this month. We'll see the doctor in Perugia in September, so we'll see. In the meantime, I'll slow down on the painting, slow down on just about everything.
The day ends with the cicadas so loud outside our windows that the room seems to bulge and shrink as though we're characters in a cartoon, all in step with the rhythm of their scratching legs...
AUGUST 2006
August 1
The slow, lumbering days of summer continue, and I drag myself out of bed, sure that I'll not miss Giusy's pedicure this morning. My head feels as if it's locked in a vise, with some floating monster above me cranking it every so slowly now and then. I'm a determined one, determined not to let Giusy down, so let's push on...
Sofi stays at home, hiding behind a planter next to the front door. It's so hot she does not want to go out, anyway. But she hates being left alone. Sorry, dear one.
I bring Giusy a little painted ceramic dish, feeling so badly that I missed last week's appointment, and she rushes up to hug me when she sees me. She's taken by the little present, and I could not ask for more. It's a gift of affection, for I like this woman so very much. And as she studies the detail, I'm remembering painting it, the shadows on each leaf helping it to reflect my thoughts at the time.
She turns the lights of her studio down for me, and gives me a pillow to lean against while she works on my toes under the light of a kind of microscopic plate that magnifies her work. Today we don't have any philosophical discussion. The room remains silent, and when we're through she sends me away with another hug until next month.
At home, I take an ice pack and lie down until pranzo. Dino has an appointment in Amelia and returns with a roast chicken, which we eat with a salad. I'm feeling better, and although I asked Dino if he'd go without me tonight, think I can rally.
He's happy about that, and when Franco and Candida arrive we learn that she's not feeling so well, either. Candida and Sofi and I sit in the back seat for the drive, while the men chatter away in front and the air conditioning keeps us cool. Sofi lies happily between her two best girl friends.
L'Aquila is the provincial capital of the Abruzzo, as well as the regional capital, and it is a large city, about 750 meters above sea level. We expect it to be cooler than home, but it's still above 90 degrees. There is a breeze, and we think we'll all be able to walk around for an hour or two before we meet Mitch for cena and his concert.
Dino drives us around the centro storico to get a lay of the land, and then we look for the 99 fountains, where the concert will be held. It is near one of the city gates, and as we drive up to it we see Mitch walking around with his camera right inside the gate.
Candida and Sofi and I get out to talk with Mitch while Franco and Dino park the car. Mitch is like a teen-ager, in love with life and in love with Italia. He is an interesting man, so unassuming and gentle, wide-eyed and interested in everyone and everything.
It is not until he is on the stage that he jumps into another character, boisterous and wild, his zoot-suit echoing the boogy-woogy style of his music, his behind gyrating and, once or twice, his foot finding its way up on the keyboard, a la Jerry Lee Lewis. He can REALLY PLAY that keyboard, heating up the keys and not missing a beat.
He loves his music, he loves the crowds, and they love him, too. Italians are not particularly good audiences, for they don't generally get involved with the music. Mitch gets them up on their feet, gets them dancing to his music, and it's hard not to want to wiggle to the beat of his band.
His band is "The Red Wagons" and he is the headliner at this opening night of the Blues Festival Under the Stars. The group is from Rome, and whenever he's in Italy, he plays with them. He'll play with them in Ancona at the end of the month, but leaves for San Francisco tomorrow for some U.S. gigs in the meantime.
Earlier, we have dinner with him in the garden right above the stage, able to stand up and look over at the remarkable fountain behind the spot where Mitch will play. There are 99 different faces, each of which spouts water. The surround is made up of squares of the most beautiful pale pinky-brown and white laid in a checkerboard fashion.
We talk and eat while the sound check goes on below, the sounds blaring and Sofi whimpering at my feet. She's pacified by tastes of turkey and salami and beef, then full enough that she quietly rests beside me.
The configuration of the clouds change, and one particular very dark group of them have followed us all afternoon. We fear Mitch will be rained out, but just as he leaves to change, the skies clear and he's given a sendoff from on high.
I'm not feeling well, so Dino walks Sofi and me to the car, where she and I sit with the windows open, listening to the music. Dino and Candida and Franco sit in the audience after finishing cena. My head rests back against the seat with my eyes closed, and I hear Mitch call out, "This one is for my good friends, Dino and Eva..." and he plays Solid Gold Cadillac. I can't help smiling.
