Autumn is slowly creeping into our area. The grape and olive harvests are in full swing. The days are lovely and warm, but not uncomfortably hot. Nights are sometimes cool enough for a light blanket. For some reason, autumn always reminds me of Nonno’s house, our summer home. It’s the house my husband was bornContinue reading “Goodbye to Our Nonno House”
Tag Archives: summer home
The Village Morning
Sitting here at the kitchen table, I hear the shepherd who lives uphill start his dilapidated truck. It seems quieter this time. Perhaps he has repaired it since our last visit. Or maybe our closed windows muffle the rattle. But it’s a welcome sound. For this quiet mountain village sinks into a deep silence asContinue reading “The Village Morning”
The Old Auntie’s Kerchief: The Power of Love
I can still see her, old and frail, limping up the steep hill with her homemade canes. “What do you have there, Zia (Auntie)?” my Hubby asked, pointing at the mesh bag on her kerchief-covered head. I just gaped, wondering how many nasty things had been on that seldom-washed, filthy headscarf! “Oh rabbit droppings for myContinue reading “The Old Auntie’s Kerchief: The Power of Love”
Italian Towns: A Journey Into the Past
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 roastingContinue reading “Italian Towns: A Journey Into the Past”
Where Thrift Reigns: The Italian Village of Thrift
Do you rush out to buy new things or have you learned the art of making do? My husband’s hometown is a village where thrift reigns. Where people have long been used to making do. The current trend toward simplicity and frugality is so normal to them, that they would ask “Is there any other way?” Continue reading “Where Thrift Reigns: The Italian Village of Thrift”
Their First Look at the Americans
One by one they filed in, sitting around the smoky fire in the dark, dingy room. The entire village, it seemed, wanted a look at us — the Americans. While I in turn, through teary, smoke-filled eyes, examined them. Our new town folk, for this was our new home. A village from another era Life in that isolatedContinue reading “Their First Look at the Americans”