Category Archives: Uncategorized

La vera ricchezza sono le persone. True riches are not things but people. This morning a slight youngish man with a red van, where the tools of his trade were neatly lined up, each one in its specific space, knocked on my door. It was my electrician who had come to check up on aContinue reading “True Riches”

Magic. Reflections in a pool of water. A fragment of another world. Leaves floating on the surface. A fragment of the sky. Mystery. Reflections.

The smallest thing can contain the germ of a story. April 18, 2022  It was one of those days when spring seemed just around the corner, no longer playing hide and seek. Returning from a walk, with my dog of course, I reached up to put the key in the lock and noticed something glitteringContinue reading “The Pink Earring”

Flaring green glass vase of tulips yellowed leaves turn celadon against the light the renaissance perfection of color saturated petals progresses to mannerist decay ghostly greens and purples watercolor washes sharp penciled lines outlining curling edges finely etched dark pistils silhouettes slender stems in perfect curves or cypress straight translucent faded petals flutter down abortedContinue reading “Tulips”

1994 Fireworks last night star bursts flashes in the dark fleeting echoing reports that leave no room for silence. Sarajevo – a shudder – there new year is firing to kill a thing we know but cannot know. 2001 At midnight, 2001 began its course. Short-lived bursts of sparks vied with the stars. Illusion. InsideContinue reading “Peace and War”

February 9, 2022   The other day you asked me if I was acquainted with the poetry of Eugenio Montale. Yes, I answered. And my thoughts backtracked to many years ago. To a young woman on her first trip abroad who was discovering Italy.  Way back when. Surely the book was still on her bookshelf, oneContinue reading “Montale: First Encounter”

Traces of a shadow, like the life in a room, remain where they have been cast on the sand, in the earth, on the paving. We have left a trace of ourselves as our shadow goes to join the multiple shadows of the past. Odysseus once cast a shadow here. And Priam and those whoContinue reading “Me, Myself, and My Shadow”

My Lady of the Roses There is talk of roses And I think of you. There is talk of you and I think “roses”. The rose reflects your soul and you reflect your roses. Roses. Your roses. Pruned, nurtured, tended, loved. Perfect for that is your desire. Natural but perfect. Every rose in the rightContinue reading “In Remembrance of Nennella (d. 4 January 2022)”

Reminiscences Recollections Once upon a time Time for nostalgia There was once a farm, once upon a time many years ago, that now existed only in her memories. It, too, had a story of its own, a life story of a home and of a hill. And of the young woman who lived there. WhenContinue reading “Farm Reminiscences”

September 11, 1944 About Myself First, I would like to introduce you to my family and give you a picture of my home. There are only four of us, my gifted, exacting father, my sweet, ever-busy mother, my impish, nature-loving sister and myself. During the summer we all worked harder than ever for before the warContinue reading “Erika High School Essay, Age 15”

Once upon a time  little old ladies foraged for wild salad greens in the fallow fields along the road. Defined as weeds by many,  crowding out more urbane peers, these humble plants gave spice and flavor to what otherwise    would have been a more pedestrian dish. The little old ladies and their rough homespun apronsContinue reading “Foraging for Memories”

George and Jean In the beginning, before Giulio, before those others, who then became part of my life, there was George. Golden jade dragons: George was, perhaps, the first of the people who had meant something to me. I had never had a crush on my high school classmates – indeed, never had a date.Continue reading “Watcher, Giulio, George, Jean IV”

Making hay was a story by itself. We used what we called our tractor, but which was actually a pick-up truck painted red, to pull the mowing machine with one of us sitting on it, raising and lowering the double row of blades that moved back and forth cutting the grass. The next step wasContinue reading “On a Farm One Makes Hay”

I watched. I wondered if I could call them friends. Acquaintances was, perhaps, a better word. Some did though become real friends. Like il Dottore.  I had been going through some papers to find an address – I must say I hate to throw papers of whatever kind away, including grocery lists – when aContinue reading “The Watcher: Florence continued III”

  Six a.m. Thump on the bed. Over to the window sill. The cat sits herself down and looks outside. Immobile, she stares out the window. I raise my head and look out too but all is calm. The leaves hang motionless, suspended, waiting for a breeze. Almost imperceptibly dawn merges into day. The cat Continue reading “The Cat”