Every so often I get cravings for the mountains. This last week it has been particularly strongly in the form of the Dolomites. I really miss them! It doesn't take much to spark the longing: a few too many weekends in Milan, Nonna B's autum themed table cloth, a plateful of pasta with funghi, or even an email from my former boss sending me overdue paperwork.
This time last year I moved to Italy to a little town northwest of Venice. It was without a doubt the most beautiful place I have ever lived. Unfortunately I was quite often very lonely, so a move to Milan to be with A. was necessary for my weight if not my creativity. I had a lot of time on my hands by myself and I was bursting at the seams with creativity. I took tons of photos, sketched, did yoga every morning in the garden (!), and even wrote poems.
These poems I wrote for myself on a whim to capture a moment, but perhaps anybody who loves nature, almost to the point of shamanism, like me, might like them too.
I would like to be a mountain
Carpeted, a handmade rug of red and green and yellow.
The clouds caress your middle
and you rise up
Keep the leaf blowers at bay
I make my way through the hospital, entranced
The sun has gone but the trees have absorbed its gold
radiant, they light up path.
The leaf blowers are busy in their futile task
shuffle and sigh
the dry leaves flutter down
pitter-patter as they tumble down the hill
and mimic the rabbits and upset the crows.
Hot gnocchi alle zucche,
The burning mist steams.
The good news is that A has booked a Bed and Brrreakfast (for authenticity really roll that 'r') and it looks like all being well we may well be taking a quick weekend break so that we can gorge ourselves on cheese, polenta, pumpkin pasta and mountain scenery and revisit all our favourite spots and people.