I can see Paolo's medieval tower out in the Val d'Orcia when I'm at Il Loggino. He e-mailed me in New York just before he rushed off to Sicily this week. He's relieved that he had pruned my olive trees earlier this winter during the harvest, since many trees lost branches during the snow storm a couple of days ago. How wonderful of him to have taken my little crop off to the frantoio along with his own. My four trees netted me a big bottle of my very own organic oil.

When I look down at his village, I anticipate getting to know the three women he introduced me to last spring: the young widowed owner of one of my favorite restaurants, the Roman architect's wife, the gynecologist. They were warm and welcoming and seem very like my women friends from Mantova, Vigevano, Urbino, Sovicille and Buonconvento- not to mention le donne di SlowTrav living in Italy, too.

Now it's February and it isn't dark at five o'clock anymore. I walk home from the clinic thinking how I won't have to stay here in New York more than another year. I've lived overseas before. I look forward to the clarity of vision about my native country that comes from being away from it. Lately, it's too painful up close like this. I wonder if this is somehow similar to Gore Vidal's transitional year. I'm certainly as arrogantly opinionated but I hope I'm not as narcissistic.

posted by Joanna @ 2/06/2004 02:29:00 AM