Una Bella Giornata

I've been spending a lot of time in Cortona. Through Frances Mayes lyrical prose, I visit Italy and get swept away to a world of olive and cypress trees, lush gardens, and sumptuous feasts every chance I get.

Let me begin by saying that I've never actually been to Italy, but I've been dreaming about it for quite some time. I yearn to speak the language (solo un po') and cook in a wood oven with the freshest ingredients, fragrant herbs, red, ripe tomatoes, and the best olive oil I can find. I want to roam the countryside and explore the Tuscan hills dotted with rose and apricot houses. I want to walk through the piazza and buy vegetables and flowers to fill my basket and uncover a hidden courtyard. When I arrive, I will order a caffe` and eat fresh baked bread while I explore the shops. In the evening, I will find a little trattoria and indulge in a glass of Chianti or Vino Nobile di Montepulciano. I will embrace the rhythm of la dolce vita by waking early to birdsong and the glorious Tuscan sun, and then retreat to my bedchamber in the afternoon just long enough to revive myself for a delectable three-hour supper under the stars.

As if by divine intervention, we recently adopted an Italian. Dante' is actually a Siberian Husky, so he is an Italian of Russian descent. Cooper isn't quite sure if he's in heaven or hell, which makes this latest change to our family all the more ironic. As they say (in any language) be careful what you wish for. My dreams of Italy have manifested themselves into my very own Italian poet, complete with piercing blue eyes and muscular chest. (More on Dante' when I return.)

The sights and sounds are calling again. As I get ready for vacation, I am packing my collection of Frances Mayes books so I can bring a little of Italy to the Atlantic. Her words can almost guarantee me that I will have a beautiful day.

Photo: francesmayesbooks.com

Accomplishments

Last summer, my girls and I sat around a campfire and talked about writing bucket lists. I'm not sure how the conversation got started, but they were excited about the concept and got right to work making a list of all of the wonderful places they want to see, things they want to do, and experiences they hope to have. My "summer daughter" also got in on it, and then three of my sisters-in-law jumped in and began writing their bucket lists. The girls shared a little of what they wrote..... "eat brussel sprouts" and "go to I-Hop" were two of the most silly, while "always vacation on the Cape with each other" (promises made between all of my daughters) was one of my favorites.

Now that my summer vacation is right around the corner, I started to think about those bucket lists and all of the things we have checked off since last year. After visiting DC last week, my youngest daughter went to a dinner theatre show where she met one of the actors, who also happened to be a former Abercrombie & Fitch model. Once she crossed off "visit DC", she quickly wrote, "meet an Abercrombie & Fitch model" on her list and crossed that off, too. But my own list was left undisturbed. I'll admit, my list contains slightly loftier goals, and because I have already lived half my life, my bucket list is considerably shorter than my girls' lists.

That's when it hit me. Why not make a list of everything I've already accomplished and experienced so far? We rarely take stock in the things we've done and instead, focus on all we have to do.

So this is my new summer project, and one I will share with my family next week so us older gals can marvel at our accomplishments and appreciate the lives we have already lived.

Here's a glimpse of my list so far.......

• Sang in the Jr. Miss pageant
• Worked as a telephone operator the summer after my senior year
• Mudded a bedroom wall
• Rode an elephant
• Stood on an active volcano
• Drove 23 hours to Nashville to attend a concert
• Experienced natural childbirth - 3 times!

To be continued...

Hiding Out

My "baby" is in DC for the week. This is only the second time she’s been away from home for more than a few nights since she’s been born. There is no contact by telephone; my only portal is a school blog that keeps worried parents up to date. I know she’s having a great time. Both her brother and sister went on the same trip and loved it. But, this child is a homebody and I suspect she’s ready to come home. And I am more than ready to have her back. I’m never happier than when we are all under the same roof.

My 16-year-old daughter is a little more independent than her sister. But I know she still needs me, too. She just got her license on Monday and she talks about traveling to Chile next year to visit friends who will be spending their junior year abroad. She has crossed that invisible line that separates childhood from adulthood, yet she’s not quite sure which side she belongs on. Some days she has clearly camped out on the children’s side, but more and more, I see her dipping her toe over the line to see how it feels. It takes all the willpower I have not to pull her back.

All of this and those pesky end-of-the-school year activities teachers (seem to) love to pile on at the last minute, are gobbling up time. The next two weeks will be filled with tests and quizzes, athletic appreciation dinners, meetings for the next school year’s agenda, class selections, dances, field trips… and for my 13-year-old, graduation from 8^th grade. Yes, next year I’ll have two children in high school. Visions of my oldest daughter driving my youngest stop me cold.

Finally, after we reach the end of the sprint, we will be rewarded with some vacation time, but this, too, seems bittersweet. With SATs and college visits starting in the fall, I’ve come to think of this vacation as one of our lasts. The last time we are free to make our own schedules and just be together—the way it’s supposed to be. I’m so looking forward to this time away with my family that I’ve started to think it’s almost over even before it’s begun.

So, I’ve been hiding out. Hiding behind simple blog posts just to keep my fingers nibble and my mind occupied. Hiding my deepest thoughts away, afraid of what they might reveal. Oh my husband and I have talked about the “empty nest”, and we’ve observed how other families have coped. And unlike some of them, we’re actually looking forward to having time to ourselves. But I just want another year. Make that five. I’m not ready to accept the changes that are happening faster than I care to keep up. I’m not ready to move into another phase of parenthood that if I admit to myself, will be the most challenging one of all. I thought after years of sleepless nights when they were younger, I could now sit back and enjoy them for a while. I did. A while is just coming to an end. And it’s not as if I haven’t gone through this before. My son has been living on his own for a couple of years now, but I had his sisters around to help dull the pain and make the transition a little easier. It doesn't change what's coming next.

I am holding on to the days like a rope in a tug-o-war. I want time to stop. I want to hit rewind. And I want to hide them away with me—just for a while longer.

From Where I Sit

This is my view every weekend. I sit on my porch and watch the birds fly back and forth between the feeder in the crab apple tree and the one hanging from a post on other side of the pergola. The sofa I sit on allows me to see the entire yard as I'm usually stretched out sideways overlooking our expanse of lawn and the woods beyond. It's in this spot that my girls and I gather to chat at the end of the day. Where I watched my 16-year-old daughter drive down the driveway for the very first time by herself and sighed, with great relief, when I saw her return. It's where I observe the seasons unfold, where the wood is stacked and waiting when the snow starts to fall, and where Cooper nudges his way onto the outdoor furniture thinking that if it's good enough for us, it must be pretty darn good. I eat, write, daydream, talk, listen, and relax in this spot. And I'm never without a book.

When I took this photo, the sun was shining in such a way that I thought the scene looked too beautiful to be real. The photo doesn't really capture what I saw. But that's okay, I can come back anytime I want and wait for the sun to do its magic once again.

I love the color of the flowers in the spring.

May Summer Last a Hundred Years

Summer begins when wet footprints are tracked through the house and beach sand takes up permanent residence on the car floor. Summer is swimming for hours on end, eating soft-serve ice cream for dinner, and dressing in t-shirts and flip flops without a care. Summer is a sun-kissed afternoon spent picnicking in the park at an outdoor concert. It’s when you can pick fruits and vegetables straight from the vine and eat every meal outdoors. Summer is sleeping under the stars after you’ve caught a jar full of fireflies. It’s when you’ve ditched the cell phone in favor of a game of catch out on the lawn. Summer is finding a patch of shade to spread out a blanket and read until the sun melts into twilight.

When my family and I moved to New Hampshire, we bought a piece of land where we could spread out and enjoy a little privacy. We chose to simplify our lives – less noise, less hassle, less have to’s. And although I admit that it's not always been easy, we’ve come to appreciate the kind of small town living where we actually take the time to slow down and look around. And I take full advantage of this as soon as my girls are out of school in mid-June. We embrace the time we have freed from the strict schedules we adhere to the rest of the year. There are no bells ringing and no clocks ticking. This is our time to reconnect with each other and ourselves.

As summer marches forward, I let each day lead the way not knowing where it will take me. Time seems to shift, and a gradual, slowing rhythm casually unfolds. I love days when the biggest decision I have to make is to determine how long I will stay at the beach. I watch the sun rise and set. And I love the nights that seem to stretch on for infinity, quiet and still – the only movement, a shooting star. I am more relaxed and at peace.

I can never fully explain the balance living in the moment restores to my life. And when it comes to an end, I try to take summer with me. I hold it close to my heart in hopes that the memories will sustain me.

George Gershwin wrote, “summertime and the livin’ is easy”. It should be. May summer last a hundred years.

Photo: countryliving.com