Walking through Italian villages is like a journey into the past. Another time, another way of life. Everything speaks of times gone by. From narrow cobbled streets, to ancient buildings. The ever-present scent of wood smoke fills the air, transporting the mind to slower days. When whole families gathered round the fire for warmth, chestnuts roasting and wine glasses toasting. Safe and secure, like squirrels in their winter nest.
Spring awakens from winter
But spring awakens from winter. Sleepy towns shake off their slumber. The race is on to clean up homes, fields, and gardens before the long hot days of summer.
When both farmers and their wives will fall exhausted into bed in the afternoon heat. Following that ancient, enduring, and endearing custom of all Mediterranean lands. Taking their afternoon siesta, happy with a job well done.
Brooms in hand, every path is swept, every flower box is filled. Windows are opened wide for the Pulizie di Pasqua (Easter cleaning). The women scrubbing and polishing, as their kerchief-wearing mothers had before them.
Eager to finish before the tomato harvest. When, with aching backs and sweaty brows, they’ll stoop over the outdoor fire, stirring next year’s salsa (spaghetti sauce).
Time creeps by in the village, where life still largely follows the rhythms and patterns of the seasons. Where life is savored in little bites, enjoyed in a laid-back way.
Summer flies by
Yet summer, as it does everywhere, whizzes by. Farmers begin to trade in their hoes for harvesting equipment, shaking olives from trees and dropping clusters of grapes into baskets. As mothers ransack wardrobes for cozy fall sweaters.
Children, dressed in traditional school smocks, traipse off to school with their friends. As their grandparents reminisce, remembering their own childhood days when they once skipped along the same worn streets.
Scenes of antiquity that never change. Like a long-running drama with new characters and props. But always telling the same story. New faces and modern times, yet somehow unchanged.
Carts and buggies are a thing of the past. Radios gather dust in attics. Jeans and athletic shoes have replaced the garb once worn. But the story, like a movie on repeat, goes on.
Italian streets are a picture of life, a picture in the making. Modern life woven with the past into one great tapestry. An enduring scene of family life, as it was and should always be…
Enduring family life
Our streets, all around town, present an endless scene of enduring family life. Life as it should be.
A reminder that while times change, much remains the same. Things like family and friends. Warmth and camaraderie. Neighbors lending a hand. A warm handshake, a friendly smile. Old folks gathered around warming fires. And children skipping off to school, as will their children after them.
Our Italian towns remind us to hold on to the things that matter, to cherish them and hold them close. Sure, we must embrace the present and anticipate the future. But may we always remember to bring the good of the past along with us!
These are things I hope will stay the same forever. Or for as long as the sun rises and sets. Because it’s often the little things we take for granted that make the world a better place.
What about you? What would you keep?
📷 Images are mine
I would love to be in Italy this spring, Sheila. Or summer. Or fall. Or even winter!! (Yes, I’m complaining about the cold and grey days.)
It would be great if you could come over, Cynthia! But hey, at least spring is just around the corner now! Even winter can’t last forever!!
I hope it doesn’t last forever, Sheila, or I’ll complaining morning, noon and night.
I know what you mean, Cynthia. I’m afraid I do quite a bit of complaining over it too. Despite my efforts not to! And also anger/frustration over so much of the mismanagement. I love this country, but sometimes they’re not good at that. They keep putting us in the worst zone (red). But we’ve got hospitals nearby that have been closed down in recent years. And nothing is done about recommissioning them. Instead they make the people feel guilty for visiting or wanting to visit family, loved ones, and friends. Something seems pretty warped in it to me. Illnesses should be fought primarily with medical tools. Not home jails. Oh no, now you got me started… lol!! I do hope you get to come soon to your beloved Italy!!
I am sad but not completely surprised to hear about the mismanagement, Sheila. All governments seem to be screwing up in some way at this time, but some worse than others. Hang in there. I thing the coming of spring should help even a little.
I think so too, Cynthia! But don’t worry, I’m not down. God has blessed us too much for that. And sometimes I just stop watching the news and enjoy all my blessings!! And we already have a feel of spring in the air here!!
Lovely, Sheila.
Thanks Cynthia. Italian towns really are so beautiful! We are blessed to live in such a place!!
Loved this post :) it’s important we don’t forget to live in the moment. I don’t mind the technology of today, though I’ve grown up around it, especially in my late teens. However, I think there’s a time and a place for everything. :)
Well TR, even though I grew up without technology I appreciate it too. Especially since it helps me stay in touch with my family, friends, and blogging community!! I just think that sometimes people forget that there is also such a thing as balance!
Yes, definitely :)
Sheila, Are you OK? Praying for Italy. Karen
Praying. Glad that you’re okay. Many blessings. Karen
I would do away with cell phones and many other techno gadgets. A standard phone indoors was fine. Keep with us more outdoor play for kids–and adults– that I used to enjoy in my hometown neighborhood–without those gadgets. Loved the post today. Pictures are always a plus!
Thanks for commenting, Sheila–makes sense, for sure. I have been praying for Italy’s ravaged areas since the earthquakes…
Yes…God’s mercies…
Memories would I keep. I’d clean out the bad ones however and redefine them as “learning experiences.” So even those wouldn’t be wasted. All material items become dust but memories could move with me, even to a beautiful location such as Italy. Blessings,