Catch Up List

Palio

ISF

Norcia and Cascia

Visitors

Lights out

The power went out yesterday morning, and the electrician and I just now restored it.  In fact, it was the simple matter of switching the main breaker.  Dr. Ewell had told me where to find the two fuse boxes inside lo Stallino e la casa grande, each with a main breaker of its own.  These were all switched on, but not the mother breaker, which I just now found hiding in the external wall side of the Stallino.


While not having electricity for twenty-four hours may sound like an inconvienence, it was lovely.  It rained yesterday afternoon, and I napped with the windows open to the cool air.  At night, the skies cleared, and I built a fire and cooked porkchops and peppers.  Mist breathed in the valleys, and the headlights of the cars that swept across the hillroads formed solid mass that drummed staccato through the trees.  I sat in front of the fire past midnight with Toby and a bottle of Syrah, reading and watching fire from the pit and the silver candle-sticks brought up from the dining room, while over time, their dripping wax gathered in weeping stalactites.  Night birds and tree-frogs sang to me, stars fell overhead, and I bathed in firelight watched the heavens' silent chalice turn.

Outline Done

I have completed an nine-page outline.  For me creating an outline is always harder than actually writing the paper.  I can generate ideas and arguments quickly, but rigidly organizing them so that the logic smoothly cascades from one paragraph to the next is a greater challenge.  If minds were guns, I would be a shotgun, not a rifle.  But now that the outline is done, I am cranking on the writing.  I should have the majority of this thesis knocked out by September.  This fall, I will need to continue to read through the Berenson archive at Villa I Tatti, and what I find can be inserted into the paper to further support my conclusions.  I doubt I will find anything that jeopardizes my argument.

Otherwise, for my birthday tomorrow I am roasting a leg of lamb, and today I am preparing a crust of mustard and rosemary in which I will marinate the lamb overnight.  This is a favorite dishes that reminds me of special events at home: birthdays, Easter, etc.  Tomorrow night may just turn into a Townsend Party: me, red meat, red wine, Otis Redding, and more red wine.  Ah, the pleasure of one's own company.

Piove

The rain is moving over the hills, and the crickets are singing in the grass.  I am finishing my outline and listening to Byzantine chant.  Refilled the damigiana this morning with the maid's husband, who keeps tanks of wine and olive oil in his garage.

I went to Siena the past few days to walk, think, and observe the buzz and flow of the city.

Greeting from Lecchi in Chianti

I began house-sitting last Wednesday.  I met Charles and Addison at the Florence airport and took the car back to their home in the countryside near Lecchi in Chianti.  I spent the week reading for research and pleasure.  I gave myself a haircut and slept a lot.  I feel like a new man.  The house is beautiful, its gardens consummate.  I read on the terrace overlooking the horizon that is full of green hills and empty of people.  When the day cools and shadows fall, I walk through the garden with a glass of Chianti and water the plants.  At night, I work on my thesis and listen to Nancy's LPs.

Friends visited this weekend.  We hiked through the hills and vineyards behind the house and went swimming in the pools near Lecchi.  For dinner we made Bellinis, pureed white peaches and prosecco, and grilled steaks and sword fish.  We drank wine into the night, sitting out on the terrace and watching the night sky rotate above us.  Past midnight, the wild boar bark to each other in the woods and run through the garden.  The dog goes nuts when they're on the property.

There is a bush full of hot peppers that are red and ripe.  I am going to pick and dry them and try to make hot sauce.  I have always wanted to start a hot sauce company.

A Handful of Photos from the Past Months

I've neglected posting enough photos to my blog, so I am adding a few now, including the one of the stuffed cinghale head, Mr. Pope.  Hope y'all enjoy, and if you would like to see more, please check out my albums on Facebook.

Ponte Vecchio looking west at sunset

My street

San Lorenzo

Calcio storico parade

The sun setting behind San Ferdinando

My unit on the dig, The Impregnable Fortress

Spoils

Jack Russels are Jack Russels no matter what language they speak

The Ricasole castello Meleto

My van

The Hog Demon

Guidando

Rain sweeping over Chianti

Break at I Tatti

Studying now at I Tatti, which still maintains much of Berenson's original vision of gentility, otium, and scholarship.  Everyday the fellows gather for a seated lunch, and readers, like me, fend for themselves.  I have been using the Berenson Archive to research Cecil Pinsent's relationship with the Bernard and Mary Berenson, and since the reference librarian, who keeps an eye on everyone using archival materials and books from the special collection, eats with the fellows, I have to give up my documents for an hour and a half each afternoon.  I just finished my sandwhich and drank a few Lilliputian cups of espresso.  I need to get back on the horse after last night, when some friends and I went to the Pitti for the opening of the vinticulture exhibition.  They served copious amounts of wine at the opening, some of them very good, especially after the first two glasses, and afterwards a few friends came over for dinner: fried green tomatoes, salad, eggplant, and pork loin.  We polished off a few more bottles of cold white wine, which I never appreciated until I found myself senza AC.  Try drinking red wine or eating heavy food in Tuscany during the month of July; you will catch a raging case of the meat sweats, often reaching epic proportions.  The night ended with music and dancing in the kitchen, having opened every window and door in the apartment, praying for a cool breeze.

I finally fixed my mosquito net, but the little bastards are still sneaking in somehow.  Very upsetting.

Tomorrow, I leave to house-sit in Lecchi in Chianti until September.  I have been in squirrel mode since Alan left, hording books, articles, and notes, so that I can write the majority of my Master's thesis while I am out in the country.  I am excited about my time in Chianti: me, a five liter damigiana, a epileptic dog named Toby, a garden that needs Burwellesque watering ever other day, and the ghost of Cecil Pinsent.