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Hello Folks…I’ve been doing a lot of time away from home and computer…here are just a couple of photos…the main part of which have been taken by my son as we drive to Trent’s hospital. We’ll be leaving in just a bit … again, so I’m leaving you with a Sunday ride through the vineyards.
Down the road
through the vineyards
villages nestled in the hills
then the city streets
until we arrive
at our destination …
our daily drive
Have a great Sunday!
The house was little more than a shack if truth be told. It’d been constructed somewhere back in the late 1800s of wood with tarred sand paper shingles. The walls were covered in a hundred years of warped wall paper, buckled and faded with generations of insect life living under it. The floors undulated by time were covered in old linoleum. The windows had a strange sort of ancient plastic like screening with wire run through it, the windows couldn’t be opened, the rooms were always dark, except for electric lamps which were almost always on.
You entered the house through a screened porch. The front door opened right into the living room. The furniture lined the walls, Davenport on the right with an end table with a lamp on it as you entered, easy chairs in front of you with an ancient radio, floor lamp and spittoon and an arch-way that led to the back of the house, a coal-burning pot-bellied stove,another arch-way and an up-right piano faced the Davenport, the TV was next to the front door.
There were no inside doors but one inside the place. Of the two archways, one had a curtain on it and was a bedroom the other, as I said before, led to the back of the house, with the kitchen and another bedroom…if you kept going through the kitchen, you’d have found a back “veranda”, little more than a lean-to actually, which had been added who knows when.
In this veranda there were shelves along one wall full of mason jars of pickled this or that, which no one ever seemed to eat. There was also the “new” inside toilet and shower (here was the only door that didn’t lead outside of the house), it was added in 1960 replacing the outhouse. There was also an old wringer washing machine. Then the the back door.
The two bedrooms … one was where generations of kids had slept, including myself when I came to visit. The other bedroom was the “master” bedroom, where my grandparents slept, big enough for just a dresser, closet and double bed which was just off from the left of the kitchen behind a second pot-bellied stove.
The kitchen was a large elongated rectangle before they curtained-off a part in 1960 for my Aunt. Here she slept in her double bed and had her dressing table and a makes-shift closet. So, it became nearly square-shaped. Here were the second pot-bellied stove, a gas range, refrigerator, a big table surrounded by chairs a buffet and the kitchen sink with its cabinets over and under it. Everything was along the walls except for the table and chairs. The paint work in the kitchen must have been glossy white once upon a time but when I visited it had long since turned a sort of pale yellow.
The house was on a corner, with gravel roads that ran in front and to one side of the house with ditches separating the roads from the house. Out the back door to the left, there was an old sand-box that I loved to play in and a big grassy yard with a huge tree where someone had put up a rope and old tire creating a swing.
Along the yard was the dirt drive-way that led to a dilapidated weathered grey wooden garage. It was full of all a hundred years of stuff, including a bunch of license plates all held together with wire. It had a smell that I’ve never smelt anywhere else again.
A path led off from it to the right. Here was the vegetable garden and if you kept following the path you came to the out-house, a foul-smelling place inside another wooden shack which no one had thought to fill up when they built the new bathroom.
Along the left side of the drive-way there was a high gravelled ditch and embankment, then, the railway tracks. Everytime a train went by the house shook and shivered. The house was on the right side of the tracks…but just.
This was were my mother and her 7 brothers and sisters were raised. The house was demolished in the 80s when my grandparents passed away.
wood and tar papered houses
This morning the rain, is falling again, not really heavy, more like a thin mist. Watered down gruel rain, one could call it or thin oatmeal rain. A messy mushy rain. Fact is, I’m tired of rain and thinking of rain and seeing rain! Thank heaven’s I have my imagination, so today, I’ll take a Sunday walk in my imagination!
The grass, is a tender green, spring has just begun. First blooms are blossoming at last, the swallows have begun to return and over past few weeks the blackbirds have been wooing their lady loves with their beautiful warbling song.
The sun is warm this morning on my back as I begin this early morning walk from Bolognano to the lake down in Torbole. The warm air is a delight to my soul after the long dark and dreary winter. Of course, we never got the really bad snow falls and storms that hit most of Europe, the United States and Canada. I was happy to see that the sun has finally melted off the last of the snow and the temperatures have risen, even there!
Today, my first walk to the lake. It’s been awhile since I’ve done that! So, off I go, but first a stop off at Arco for breakfast and then…to the bike path and on to Torbole! What a beautiful day!
springtime in my mind
blackbirds, swallows and sunshine
(now, to complete this walk, take a click over to Through the Eye of Bastet!)
Running down the mountain road, breathlessly singing, the scared blackbirds flew!
browns and greens
along the mountain road
the blackbirds flew off
rain drops in red trees
up or down the road may go
blackbirds flew freely
I just found that Carpe Diem Haiku Kai is dedicating a special to “The Little Ones” or the American Sentence! So I’m submitting this experiment for the challenge as it also encludes the American Haiku 😉 !
Hello..are you ready to come with me on an imaginary walk?
Tonight I had an extraordinary experience. I passed several hours going over the same dream in quite a few f its different aspects. I mean, well the dream begin like all dreams begin…
“Ah, holiday season is almost over”
“No, it’s over…time to go back home, get things going again!”
So here I am, in a dream talking to someone who looks like they should have some authority. The scene is summer like and bright, not at all in tone with the conversation. I’m talking about going back to the hum drum days of Winter. There’s suddenly a new scene in my dream and there’s John Lennon, picking up old clothes and putting them into a suitcase singing “Let it Be”.
I feel myself surrounded by a pair of strong arms. A smiley voice says: “Come on! We’ve got a lot to get done!” and it gives me a kiss on the top of my head.
I watched the dream fade out and I said: “but it would be so nice to have some of these sensations come alive on paper!” and the dream starts over again.
This time, I see an old friend of mine. I haven’t seen her in over 24 years. She’s Austrian from Graz and was present when my youngest was born. Eva taught me so many things about myself…one of the most interesting lessons being that my Austrian origins are a reality. That is so many things Austrian make up my personality, and I never knew it until I met her. My family is “German American” (from Illinois) or so I thought, but having met many Germans here in Italy, I never really saw the connection. It was when I met Eva that things fell into place. Tastes in food, humor, dress and believe it or not, when she and her Mum would be talking to each other I understood their conversations and I don’t speak German, Austrian or otherwise!
It was nice to see Eva, and then my sister popped through for a second, but she had a lot to do. Now find myself packing suitcases and singing “Elenor Rigby”. This time I’m on a screened veranda…the air is summery the trees swish in the wind. I’ve seen this veranda somewhere before. I say to my “self” that there really wasn’t much to write about in a post when you get right down to it. It would have been better to develop the dream in some other fashion.
And the dream begins again.
This time it’s a rock concert with strobe lights. The music blasts and people are screaming. It’s pitch dark except for the scenery flashing lights. I hear more than anything else a lot of noise. No music at all and I think that it’d be better to just wake up. It seems that my dream director get’s the idea …the scene comes into slowly into focus. A high school gymnasium with a band stand. Some kids are playing “Take the Last Train to Clarkville.” The lights are low, but not that pitch dark affair of a few seconds before.
A group of teachers are huddled together. The students do their best to avoid them. They’re there to keep discipline of course. Can’t have kids smooching or smoking!
“Hey…let’s go out back and have a smoke!” says an old high school friend. “Cool!” I think, “it’s neat to be back here in Alaska…look at how young he looks!”
“Naw…” I reply “I quit smoking thanks to the flu…”
That ruined the scene and I’m back to the beginning of the dream…same balmy terrace.
At about this time…I’m thinking that I really won’t be able to convey much of all this dreaming in a post. I went to sleep at around midnight…and this dream has re-presented itself in I don’t know how many different forms, most of which I don’t remember. Each time I find something interesting and I say: “Wow! that would something to present.” Then I realize that I don’t remember much of the darn dream or that interesting point! And I start over again saying to myself that I’ve got to take notes!
It’s almost 7:30 in the morning! I’ve slept 2 hours more than I usually do and I still have this silly dream in my head…in it’s vivid variations and absolutely useless as a post. Oh well…I’m going to write it down anyway…
You all have a great day!
(Oh by the way…this really happened, for once it’s not just a make-up story 😉 )
It’s too early to actually go for a walk just now. The sun won’t be giving any of its light for at least another two hours.
I stand on my loggia and look at the mountains towards the west. The moon is setting towards the north-west and there are three beautifully elongated clouds that are outlined by her light just over the mountain tops. Three stars shine together a little further south…making a line of light, like someone popped the stars there together to string them up with the others and then got tired of the exercise. Still further south, there’s a twinkling red-white star. I thought it was an airplane at first, but it doesn’t move at all!
The tendrils of the moon light just over the mountains give me such a sense of serenity. If I were an augur of old, looking at the sky and the play of clouds, stars and light just over the mountain tops, which are white with snow now, I’d have to believe that something special is about to happen today.
Silence is deep this morning. In the distance, I can see the city street lights and an occasional car, but no sound can be heard, except my blood flowing past my ear drums! No dogs, birds or cars, nothing. The lights down there are bright gold. Some twinkle. Our imitation of the stars, closer and so much less mysterious.
It’s cold this morning, but warmer than it should be. Still, I think it’s time to go for some hot coffee, time to write and read in the quiet of pre-dawn.
Have a great Sunday.
My cold world.
Rain drops dripping…
Methinks it’s early spring,
Though winter’s grip is yet firm.
Yes, so young and strong still…
My mind moves forward,
To a new day.
My son, husband and I just got back from a walk through Arco’s Christmas market…and I thought I’d show you a few of the stalls!
This colorful stall really attracted my camera…and I do so love putting up stockings on my mantel!