Sweet Return to Italy

May at Bramasole

How many arrivals here, and still coming home to Bramasole remains a surprise. How can there be this many wildflowers? How can the air be this invigorating? How can the cuckoo repeat the cuckoo message so many times? How many shades of green grace the terraced land? All this, but what’s more powerful is the presence of the house on the steep hillside, just waiting—a living presence, belonging to itself but welcoming me back as if I never left.

Arrival means planting time. We’re going to the nurseries every day, hauling home carloads of plants. It means a flurry of seeing friends and catching up on a six-month absence. Mail has accumulated, some of it rain soaked from a leaky post box, with letters never to be deciphered. The herb garden needs a big reboot. The linden trees severely trimmed in our absence look distorted but let generous light into the kitchen. Much to settle. My study lures me, as it is time I started getting serious about my new book.

More to come. Meanwhile, a few looks at the spring-has-sprung land. This is the view, with Lago Trasimeno in the distance. Hannibal defeated the Romans there in 217 BC.

Can’t wait to share Italy with you for the next six months! A presto!