The snow was blowing when we woke up Sunday. It was hard to see through the windows because the screens were so packed with snow. It makes me cold just thinking about it. We settled on pancakes and bacon for breakfast to warm our innards before we headed out for snow removal duties.
Then I cut up leeks for soup and Chris made an orange cranberry sauce for a pork roast and we both pretended that it was already Spring. Reality is over-rated.
From the first glass of wine at La Perla in Amalfi, to the white wine by the sea in Atrani, to the Campari and soda streetside in the late afternoon (with all the Italian men whose wives had chased them out of the house) to the espresso at Nettuno in Paestum...
..... I recall each and every one of the drinks of Italy in 2008. Unfortunately, I find myself unable to remember what I did with the Italian language CD's. I am searching madly for the spot where I put them when I got home.
Brushing up on my conversational skills before we take off for Spoletto is a must. One of my favorite parts of the trip to the Amalfi coast was going into a little shop in Praiano where I asked in Italian (with my best accent of course) if I could buy some stamps for our post cards. The octagenarian behind the counter smiled and responded with many words I had never heard before. I had to back-peddle and explain in broken Italian that my repertoire of phrases was limited but he didn't seem to care and we had a nice "moment". It's these connections that make me smile when I look back on trips ... and remembering the mediterraneo we sipped as we sat at a table near the end of a cliff in a fabulous garden at Villa Cimbrone in Ravello.
Who knows what delicious drinks and moments await us in Italy in 2013. I am closing my eyes right this second, setting the scene in my mind.
If I was a big hawk I would sit up in trees like this all day long. When the right breeze came along I would swoop down and ride the currents. But I would never, ever, scoop up a field mice or any kind of rodent for that matter. I would have to draw the line at that. If I were a big hawk.
You could infer from these photos that I like pink.
I do in fact think pink is a perfectly lovely color. I actually wore my pink pajamas and looked at my new pink watercolor brush pen as I selected the pink pictures for this post in which I have used the word pink six times (in only 3 sentences).
At 5:40 am yesterday morning I crept from my bed. I fumbled for my glasses and headed for the back patio. Yes, on the weekend. Why? The MOON! It's big and full and just begging to be photographed. Between 5:42 and 5:46 I took about 60 shots of it. I kept these 4.
I put the camera in manual mode and just stopped at every setting on the dial - click click click. It's still dark out at 5:40. Even with my glasses on I can't see which setting is which. I figure why not try them all? I guess I could get out the cameral manual, but where's the adventure in that? I prefer to just keep trying. As long as the neighbors don't see me in my lime green, flamingo patterned, rumpled, capri pajamas out on the patio messing around and call the police. I'm thinking they might not take me seriously if I told them the moon was talking to me.
Last night the moon experiments began. My attempts to cross #39 off my "52 by 53" list. What you see above are the best efforts by myself on the left and by Chris (fan cleaner, cook, egg coloring expert, husband) on the right. I was attempting to focus on the tree branch in front of the moon. Chris went down to the basement, got out the tripod, put the camera in manual mode and focused on the moon. Humph... one of us might have gotten a degree in photography in undergraduate school and might be just a bit more patient than the other. Whatever!
I'm still practicing. Waiting for a fuller moon. I did leave the tripod upstairs though.