3rd December 2017 HAPPY MONDAY TO YOU ALL
A couple of weeks ago I had the urge to write a simple essay for the blog based on a typical, ordinary week in our lives, here in Tuscany. And then, like so much in life, the urge got side-stepped, in this case by two, almost back-to-back, visits from young friends. Now we are alone again although the house still resonates with their loving, thoughtful, invigorating energy.
Although Joel and I have each other, nonetheless we live a fairly isolated existence here. Weeks can go by in which the only English we speak is to each other. And so these occasional visits are essential, not only for the exchange of new ideas and points of view, but also because, speaking for myself, I get to experience different aspects of myself which perhaps lie dormant during the periods in which Joel and I are dependent on each other and, while happily so, it is natural to fall into habits of communication with each other which, while rich in their own way, are also slightly limited, in terms of how couples create a language of their own.
Our first visitors, a couple in their 40’s from California, newly in love, brought not only the exquisite energy of that love, but also the energy of early mid-life; a stage in which wisdom, experience and loss have already shaped us to some degree. It seems to me to be a stage of life in which one is at a crossroads where the choice is between turning to a sort of jaded wariness or else choosing the preservation of hope which allows us to go forward with courage and belief in our dreams. The latter quality was abundantly evident in this couple and as a result they had kept alive their younger selves which, coupled with the physical energy still available at their age, completely rubbed off on us so that it was as though we were 2 teenage couples double-dating.
It would have to be said at this point that I am completely capable of acting like an idiotic teenager even when alone with Joel…and often do! But there is something about sharing this energy with younger people that is not only a load of fun, but which reminds us that age is ephemeral; that we each of us carry within us every age we have ever been and it doesn’t matter if the wrinkles and the creaky joints say otherwise, the truth is we can experience the inner energy of our childhood, or teens or any decade, whenever we want. To that end I believe it is vital to have friends of all ages because we need each other to awaken to the fullness of our being.
Our second visitor is in his mid-twenties. European to the core, he speaks four languages and laughs in all of them. He is the type of young person who gives you hope in these dark times when all news is bad news, when we are bombarded with the vile behavior that humans are capable of. It is joyous and encouraging to spend three days with such a young person who is capable of serious thought; of willingness to look at all sides of a situation; who is in no hurry to achieve success. What a gift to be seen by such a one; to feel age disappear. To exchange opinions and stimulate creative ideas. And when was the last time a young man brought you a loaf of bread that he made himself? That offering, to me, was as ancient and symbolic as the gifts borne by the Magi. And, I might add, the bread was fucking fantastic and I’m really cross I didn’t photograph it.
However, I did have the presence of mind to photograph these exquisite orecchiette that our neighbor, Silvia, had just made, with her own milled flour! Delicate and wholesome, we devoured the lot for dinner with a wonderful chicken liver ragù made by Joel
The time we spent with these friends was the kind of ordinary time I had wanted to write about: shopping for food in various villages, stopping to chat with shopkeepers, hanging with our friend Gianni, preparing food together and sitting by the fire for hours at a time either reading or talking, and of course, much laughter. These are the things we do with or without guests and we are daily grateful for this simplicity. But what I love is to see how visitors, most of them living in towns or cities, so easily sink into the routine of this country life. You can see the surrender on their faces and in their bodies; the shoulders dropping inches, brows unfurrowing and after several attempts to jump up and do the dishes they finally give in to being taken care of. What they give us in return is a sense of relevancy, of having something of worth to offer and, yes, the feeling that we are ageless.
In a little while I’ll go into the library where two big crocks of olives have been sitting in coarse salt for 2 weeks. It has not been a good year for olives in Italy because an unexpected frost in the spring killed the blossoms. But the three big old trees named after our children were loaded with olives, which we harvested three weeks ago. There were not enough to make oil, but too many to cure for eating so we gave lots away. The rest we washed, drained and put in wicker baskets to dry by the fire. Then Luana came by and showed us how much salt to add. Every evening I turn them in the crocks allowing those on top to have their turn in the salt, which by now is brine. On Tuesday Luana will return to help me rinse them and put them in jars with oil and garlic. Some will get pepperoncino added while others will get orange rind.
Learning this simple ritual is another thread that weaves us into the coarse cloth of this land. It is a simple, timeless chore that marks the passing of another season while connecting us to all that is still good in life.
Wishing you all a positive start to your week
with love, Maggie
ps. OUR FRIEND IN FLORENCE HAS JUST SENT THIS PHOTO OF THE BREAD HE MADE TODAY!