I know it’s cold so don’t even try to poke my nose outside. I lie in bed waiting for my son to finish whatever he is doing at the computer since he must help me to put on my brace. Thoughts begin to swirl around my head. I should really get up but I can’tContinue reading “Cold Nose Two”
Tag Archives: travel
The letter C and A Special Birthday
December is marked by the letter C. There is of course Christmas but there is also Carolyn, Cynthia, and most important Costanza. Carolyn, you were just a student when first you came to stay with us, rather perplexed and not quite sure what you were doing in an unknown Italian household as you were finishingContinue reading “The letter C and A Special Birthday”
Dec. 24
A roundup of my beloved poems – a few of those countless excerpts that inhabit the library of my mind. There are many others I would add, but they, for now, must remain under cover. Wake! For the Sun, who scatter’d into flightThe Stars before him from the Field of Night,Drives Night along with themContinue reading “Dec. 24”
Lost Words
LOST WORDS – BONDMAID Ramblings for the end of the week. No more than ramblings for that’s all I can do this week. Since the book I’m reading is The Dictionary of Lost Words, I decided I should look up rambling, although it isn’t one of the lost words. Rambling. Lengthy or inconsequential. (Typical of Trump I add)Continue reading “Lost Words”
People and Pigeons
There they are, a gaggle of ladies sitting ìn a row on the long metal bench under the portico of San Andrea. There’s an odd male between one contingent and the other. There used to be a florist here, with her offerings of calla lilies, fuchsia cyclamens, carnations, and roses from Israel or Holland. ItContinue reading “People and Pigeons”
Sunday
For this week, just a thought. Not only are books friends, but they are also what helps make new friends and what connects friends. A way of keeping conversations going when you don’t see each other every day. Or perhaps have never even seen each other. They are such important parts of our lives. BothContinue reading “Sunday”
Three Books
There are three books half covered by a quilt next to a box of Kleenexes on my bed. Judi Dench on her delving into the psychology of the Shakespearean characters before bringing them to life on stage, “Held” by Anne Michaels, short stories in Italian by Camilleri. How differently one reads them! Most of myContinue reading “Three Books”
Not a Madeleine
But a Mounds bar. Coconut and dark chocolate. A Mounds bar from the vending machine along the side of the station sidewalk while I wait for the train to come swooshing in. The year 1952. A subway station in New York. I have always liked coconut but it has to be paired with dark chocolate.Continue reading “Not a Madeleine”
Day After Day
A DAY IN THE LIFE OF AN ALMOST 97 YEAR OLD LADY WHO HAD THE MISFORTUNE TO FALL AND BREAK HER LEG A YEAR AGO Hard to realize I’m no longer independent. Hard to realize my lovely dog has crossed the rainbow bridge. Now who invented that idea? I find there is a real rainbowContinue reading “Day After Day”
Immigrants
Once upon a time Beginning in 1892, Ellis Island in the port of New York began receiving immigrants, replacing the Castle Garden station. Steamships unloaded their third-class passengers where they were processed before being allowed into what to them was the gateway to a land of opportunity. Immigrants flocked from Ireland, fleeing famine, from Italy,Continue reading “Immigrants”
La Magna Via
Some books I read and then read again, leafing at chance through the pages. Not for the plot, not for the characters who have become acquaintances or friends. What entrances me may be the words themselves, the poetry. Most often though it is the philosophical thoughts that have made an inroad in my brain –Continue reading “La Magna Via”
The Sagra Part II
Local pop groups have set up their acoustic guitars and drums and a singer is trying out her repertoire. They seem to be popular despite their rather deafening volume as people start dancing. There may also be theater representations with plays in the local dialect and with improvised actors. In other words, an evening ofContinue reading “The Sagra Part II”
The Sagra Part I
I’ve had my supper and turned out the light. The sky is still pale for the moon is full as I visualize my friends at the Sagra del Bosco with the local families lining up to pay for their orders before finding their assigned tables. I have decided not to go, afraid it would tireContinue reading “The Sagra Part I”
Notes in The Night
Whenever a thought occurred to me that I didn’t want to lose, whenever I had what you might call an inspiration, I used to jot whatever it was down on a bit of paper. Particularly in the middle of the night. I would switch on the light and scribble whatever it was, hoping I couldContinue reading “Notes in The Night”
Xenia
I am in my shop just off Piazza Duomo when Carlo stops by. If you don’t have anything better to do, I’m going to see a friend in a small town in the hills. Want to come? Well, yes. I don’t have anything better to do and my sales assistant will see to the shop,Continue reading “Xenia”
Lugnano
Lugnano in Teverina (August 1993) You have to know it’s therebut even soit takes you by surprise.A tiny hilltop townwith down belowa far flung valley of olive grovesand fields of wheat. We are politely informedwhere to leave our car.A narrow spiral staircase takes us to the road.We cross and entera meander of streetsin an apparentlyContinue reading “Lugnano”
Books
Things shared Experiences Words Books Things heard, things seen: these can be simultaneous. But not touch or taste. For those they must be translated into words. A friend comes to visit. And what do we talk about? Books. We might have shared experiences, things heard, things seen. But it is books that connect us most.Continue reading “Books”
Birdie
Birdie with a yellow bill, hopped upon my window sill The birdie with a yellow bill I saw just now hopped . . . upon the branch of a chestnut tree, and chirped away looking for a mate as the wind ruffled his feathers and the leaves around him. Inside, on my window sill, aContinue reading “Birdie”
What Happens to Montalbano?
Camilleri, the father of the Italian police commissioner Salvo Montalbano, which became a series of mystery stories published by Sellerio, was originally a stage director and playwright. It is tempting to compare him to Pirandello, the Sicilian author known for his plays and short stories and awarded the Nobel prize in 1934. Camilleri died atContinue reading “What Happens to Montalbano?”
Encounters
Fleeting encounters I remember, but do they? One never knows what life will hold in store. Throughout the years we cross paths with people of all kinds, for all kinds of reasons. Perhaps I was more likely to have a variety of encounters since I had a shop on the cathedral square, since the localContinue reading “Encounters”
Erika Bizzarri 