May 1, 2013
Tumble out of bed at dawn and meet me for a wander about town.
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March 2, 2013 After three days of dreary downpours and hellish winds–during which I worked so slavishly on a translation that getting out of my PJs completely slipped my mind–Saturday dawned sunny! I put on real clothes and clickety-clacked my way down to the piazza with Marcella Hazan in my bag. I dropped into a chair, leafed through Marcella, and wondered: will I EVER be able to cook like an Italian? I am studying this 1973 book–bought for a buck at a library sale–as if it were the Bible itself. I’m trying one recipe a day and have loved every one. (The updated version is Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking).
Then I looked at the palms waving overhead and wondered: Will you survive, dear friends? Horrible winged black bugs are eating palm trees to death in Sicily. Our piazza has already lost one. I mourned it like I’d mourn a best friend.
I looked to the right and I saw a gaggle of guys. I got up and asked for a photo. They were a little shy, especially when I spoke to them in English. They wore braces. They were sweet sixteen.
I remember the braces I wore at that age, gap-toothed and horribly shy. And I wondered: Would I like to be sixteen again? Would you? *** November 12, 2012 This is the honeyed spot where my heart comes alive. I love it in my cells & my bones. It’s here I drink my black wine, salute my fellow villagers, buy my daily bread, recharge my phone & my soul.
x I cannot be there now. Family duty calls… But when I close my eyes, I’m right here. Do you have a sacred space? A place you love beyond all others? To paraphrase Raymond Carver, are you getting what you want from this life? If not, set it all in motion now. Find that place where your heart comes alive: library nook, cafe window, mountain trail, room of your own. *** October 21, 2012 When I throw open the shutters in the morning, the cupola is there, like a gift. The color of sweet latte. It is moody, changeable, capriciosa. 
Click on the photo to advance to the next slide.
Note: Slides of the Cathedral of San Giorgio in Ragusa Ibla. October 11, 2012 A pride of lions and lionesses populate the village. Sometimes it seems there are more of you than us… What’s your story, Leo? Are you a leftover symbol of the Ancient Greek colonies on Sicily? (Hercules slew a lion, didn’t he?) Or do you come from Sicily’s Norman period, when your lion’s head was the symbol of the Hauteville’s?
Have you seen the majestic lions and lionesses of Sicily? Do you know anything about them? Please educate me, dear Reader. *** P.S. One of my readers, an Irishman (I love the Irish!!!!) sent me this photo of a lion door in Palermo. It’s not just any door! It’s the door of a fabulous-looking palazzo, a B&B he recommends called Butera 28. It seems reasonably priced, is owned by a duke and duchess, and is listed in 1000 Places to See Before You Die. Thank you, dear Reader, for this great tip.
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