snail relocation program

After the downpour this Saturday, Young One and one of her best buds found quite a collection of snails in the gardens out back. I encouraged the girls to collect the garden pests, and then we instituted a "Snail Relocation" program to a nearby roadside ditch. I wonder if my basil will be better off as a result or if just as many snails remain in hiding in my small plot of land. At last count, the girls collected over 80 of the slimy critters, who were  relocated (using my kitchen bowl) with the utmost care under the first light of the super moon.

Just a side note:  I learned that I have been using, incorrectly, the word "lumaca" for a snail with a shell, when, in fact, the correct word is "chiocciola."  A "lumaca" is the little slimy creature who lives without the shell. Nothing like having  a pair of second graders to keep my Italian vocabulary in line.

snow shadows before sunrise

We are not being hammered with snow like the rest of the country; however, this morning we woke to discover a thin blanket of snow covering the paese. Sometimes, it pays to be among the first out in the morning. Have a great weekend :)

perspective from a city girl

Yesterday afternoon one of Young One's classmates came home from school with us for a Friday afternoon play date.

Considering that the last time a "city kid" came out to the country with his dad to visit us he had quite an aversion to the smells of the country, which shouldn't be confused with those of the country club he frequently visits, I was just a bit curious to see how this would go. I'm not sure if he got a whiff of the cow across the street or the rabbits and chickens right next door, but the odor lingered with him the entire time he was here and became his (obnoxious) focus.

 

This little girl was so completely different. The minute the cliffs came into view she became ecstatic with delight, and in super-speed Italian relayed a hiking adventure of her family and shared how much she just wants to climb those rocks, those high and mighty cliffs.  And she continued and continued without pause for breathing until I parked the car. She didn't notice the smell, but ran quickly instead to one garden, and then to the next. Oh, how beautiful! Oh, look at the tomatoes! (Fillipo has one vine that is hanging around from warmer days.) Oh, look at the roses! Oh, the little olive tree. And how many cats are here!  This seven-year-old  girl from the city has an expansive vocabulary of flowery Italian language that makes everything so much more lovely than reality. Her excitement filtered through me.

No country smells at all on this crisp fall afternoon. Not that we notice much any more.

Pizzeria with Lamp Hanging from the Ceiling  and Satellite and Antenna on the Rooftop

I had expected that they would spend their time inside, exploring the dress-up box and the AG collection. Of course, they were outside the entire time, instead . . .  because when you live in a palazzo in the middle of the city and you are seven . . . you think that colored chalk on the blacktop out back which is surrounded by "mountains" is the bees-knees.

Perspective.

The Table is Set & Ready for Guests

I think Young One is picking her friends well.

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Have a super weekend. The temps here are perfect for gumbo. That's what's for dinner! Boy does that make me happy.

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Ps. I've discovered that colored sidewalk chalk is not very common here. It's always a hit with Italian children. This little girl was very excited to take a few pieces of Young One's stash home with her. It's the simple things, isn't it.

sharks

Pool Sharks in the Paese

Ready to make a wager?

{ this moment }

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. Inspired by SouleMama.

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about that cake

I told the gathered Italian neighbors that I would bring a  chocolate cake with a twist, a secret ingredient that I would not reveal until everyone had at least one good bite of the cake. Oh, the suspense was thick!

Marco joked that it might be an ingredient that sent us all to the hospital.
His wife, Cristiana, lamented that at least the hospital has air conditioning, a good thing in this heatwave.
Rosy, allergic to all cheese except for mozzarella di bufala, inquired if there would be any cheese in the recipe.
Ida and Zia just smiled and shook their heads, agreeing to at least a taste. I never know what they are really thinking. They do love my pecan pie, so they are likely truly willing to give my cake a shot.

I did exactly as I promised. After a somewhat disjointed, American and Italian, potluck-style meal that included both pasta with mussels and BBQ chicken sliders, grilled hotdogs and grilled polenta, I brought it out.

Everyone had a taste.
Everyone gave the proverbial two thumbs up, some even asking for seconds.
Except for Pino. For Pino, it's never good enough unless it's exactly the way they make it in Naples. He suggested (several times) that if I would only add almond to the cake it would be just like the Torta Caprese found in Naples. Exactly.

And then I told them, and a hush came over the crowd . . . except for Pino, who was sure I said zucchero (sugar) and looked at me in puzzlement. "Isn't that in all cakes? Don't forget the almonds next time. This cake would be so much better with almonds."
This, from a man who probably couldn't make himself a bowl of cereal.

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And if you want to know, you'll have to go and visit Daisey for the secret ingredient.
And while you are there, check out this woman's creative talent.
Ah - mazing, she is.

Look at her Super Princess Cape and Mask and this Super Bat Cape.

Are you local?

She's teaching classes at the Art Center where she'll guide you in making these fab creations.
I would be there, but I have this pesky thing called work to attend to, starting tomorrow. 

Friday Night in the Paese

(: Sure is good to be home :)

And, oh, I'll give you the low down on that fabulous cake and it's "secret ingredient" in a day or two. For now, just salivate.

generosity.

Gloria lives nearby.

Sunday she brought us cherries that she and her family picked in the morning.

I'm never leaving this place.

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By the way, the Festa dea Siaresa, or the Cherry Festival, begins this weekend in Castegnero. 

little people in the paese

It's been about three years now that we've been living out in the paese. When people ask us how we like living "so far out" from the city, the answer is always the same: At this point in the history of our family, we wouldn't consider trading it for much of anything.

And these are among all the little reasons why . . .

Neighbor kids gathered to celebrate a birthday with us.

There is ALWAYS someone ready to play, always. Let the late summer nights out back begin!


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More images from the recent birthday party out back can be found on Flickr.

boys in the hood

Dani

Raffi

With the onset of spring kids are out in the paese more and more each day after school, including these two sweet, sweet, sweet little cousins: Dani & Raffi. Don't you want to eat 'em up? We do.

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l'acqua

Spring brings colors and scents and brighter moods to the paese, and she also brings water to the creek beds that have lain dry all winter long. And what six-year-old do you know who can resist tossing stones into a flowing stream? By the end of the visit to the water, these two eager girls were displaying unimaginable feats of strength by heaving boulders into the middle of the tiny creek. Spring does that to people.

il gattino Luigi

Longing to climb a tree, chase a lizard, feel the grass under his paws, harrass a bird, inspect local gardens -- he tries to escape every single time we open a door. When he is denied,  he sits at the open window (as pictured) and talks to us with soft pleas or, worse, cries, howls, moans at the door when someone exits. Today I checked that his tail wasn't caught because he was so dramatic in his chatter.

I have a feeling it won't be long before our indoor-only kitty becomes an indoor/outdoor kinda guy. Let's hope Luigi is ready for what lurks in the paese; it ain't always nice.

saturday conversations on the black top

We had an odd, premature taste of spring yesterday with the sun shining brightly in the sky throughout most of the day. Sun and warmth mean many things in the paese, one of which is that the children who have been restricted to finding creative activities indoors finally go outside to play.  For Young One, this is nothing less than heaven on earth. She has learned that if she heads out alone, one kid or the other will inevitably soon join her. This was the case Saturday when three other children appeared shortly after she and I headed out back with our sidewalk chalk.

After a few rounds of hopscotch, I headed to the garden and left her with a same-aged friend for outdoor adventures, likely with an argument or two. After a bit of pruning (don't think I really know what I'm doing in this garden), I noticed that he had captured her attention as he rambled and she sat engaged and speechless. This is not exactly normal behavior for these two, so I decided to move to the other side of the garden and have a listen. What can he possibly be discussing that has her so enthralled?

I was shocked. He was telling stories of World War II.  I'm still unsure of what he said before I began eavesdropping, but when I tuned in, he was describing people being forced onto trains and people being burned alive in ovens. He was confident. He had details. He is six. Finally, Young One, not sure what to say about this, asked him: "How do you know this? Who told you these things?" Evidently, his mathematics teacher is his source of information. Having recently observed Holocaust Remembrance Day at the end of January, this seems plausible that he learned it in school. I distracted them both and changed the direction of the conversation.

Wow. These children are six-years-old. What good can possibly come of explaining the horrid details of a concentration camp to a six-year-old child? I don't get it. I believe in being honest with children, but how can a six-year-old possibly process, possibly understand, possibly conceive these horrors without understanding the context? I don't believe in avoiding tough topics with children, but I do believe adults are responsible to have an understanding of what is age-appropriate, and in my humble opinion, gory details of concentration camps are not appropriate for first graders. My opinion is supported by the US Holocaust Memorial Museum, by the way.

Later that day his mom stopped by for a visit. I described the exchange to her, and she confirmed that he has indeed been obsessed with the topic since hearing it at school. He has also become extremely worried and fearful.

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I wish people would think more, I really do.

wood & work in the paese

The wood truck arrived early Saturday morning with the delivery of next year's wood.  A couple of local families then had a date with a table saw to get it just the right size for the pile where it will sit, covered until next winter when it will be used to feed the large furnaces that heat their homes. It's a great deal of manual labor, moving and cutting this amount of wood, and the entire family will pitch in until it is done. As a result, their gas bills will be virtually nonexistent.

I feel a little guilty as I watch them from my kitchen window while preparing a chocolate chip cookie pie for the evening's social call, lamenting the fact that I'll be forced to use walnuts over my favored pecans.

They work hard to avoid the gas bill.
We work hard to pay the gas bill.

So why do I feel guilty that they are out there busting there backsides on a Saturday morning while I'm playing Betty Crocker and dreaming of summer trips to Puglia and New York City?  Though we don't say a word to each other as we observe the spectacle, I know Richard shares the feeling when he decides to bring out a couple of freshly prepared Belgian waffles to offer. He is sent home with a crumpled paper bag filled with fresh eggs. The gift of eggs erases the guilt, for now.

There is a lot to be learned from living in the paese.

saturday morning snow

An Eager Snow Shoveller

The great irony is, of course, that when she's a bit older and we expect her to help out with such chores, she'll likely still be buried under her pile of blankets fast asleep early on the morning of the first snow. It's fine to take advantage of the willing laborer now, right?

Sledding Fun in the Driveway

I predict that she'll never tire of sledding fun.

Can you feel the joy? 

ghiacciolo

Cristian invited us along for a walk up to his land in the hills to see the ghiaccioli Saturday morning. It was a magical hike through a veritable winter wonderland. (I know, I know, terrible cliché . . just couldn't help it.)

A View of Our Village

Along the way he identified birds and plants, pointed out a stream that would be full of crawfish in the spring, explained who from our little village tended what section of land, and even showed us where the porcupine usually hides, though he wasn't there.  He welcomed us to return alone at any time, with permission to ignore the "Private Property" signs.  I'd say that's a nice neighbor, a very nice neighbor indeed.

burger or tramezzino?

An observation worth sharing:

There was a big festa out back recently in honor of 4 children who are celebrating birthdays.  As you can imagine, there were all sorts of food offerings for the tasting, including some American fare.

Giorgio enjoys a tasty dog from the grill.

The Italians (most people at this gathering of nearly 50 were indeed Italian) were lining up, waiting, longing, smacking their lips . . . .  for American hot dogs and burgers from Richard's grill.  As soon as he put a tray out, it emptied and sat waiting to be filled again.  Hot dogs and hamburgers. Plain. As much as Gene (friendly neighbor guy) pushed the dressings, most of the hungry crowd remained largely uninterested in onions and relish or mayonaise and pickles. Some did opt for a bit of ketchup.

Italian Party Food: Manuela's Tramezzini

There were those of us (Americani) in the crowd who found these tramezzini, brought to the table by the talented Manuela, much more interesting than any ready-to-grill hamburger. Can you blame us? Don't get me wrong, I love nothing better than a good burger . . . . but . . . . sometimes. . . . . Well, just look at them, will you?


She offered several varieties and they are all good, I'm sure. My favorite is the tuna with pearl onions, but don't they all looking tempting? 

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Psst . . . Have you ever tasted Italian tuna? You should.