SUMMER WEEKEND

It’s summer! The heat is full force, the sun is scorching, the parking lots fill up as our summer neighbors arrive. They promise to move in for good for the rest of the summer next week, after all school activities are done. We have kids and teachers in almost every apartment on our level, and that makes a big difference in the date of starting the season here.
Sicilian attractions are crowded on weekends, so our American guests have stayed around the place Saturday and Sunday swimming and taking it easy. Saturday they were treated to a bread baking at Paolo’s outdoor forno (oven). Just like everyone else who meets them, they were struck by how sweet Paolo and Ignatzia are to us, really like second family. Actually, they treat us better than their own families, which is typical of Sicilian families, at least my own. Paolo and Ignatzia work as a team in the bread baking, snarling at each other all the time. She is like an older sister to me, he like Steve has another older brother.
On the home front, Jack, Mariana, and Veronica returned to cook pranzo yesterday, and Jack whipped up a huge meal for us to taste some of the products he plans to export to Montreal. Especially notable was the pasta in pistachio sauce and the pasta with fennel crème. Then there are the cherry tomatoes, sun dried, which are so sweet you do not need candy when they are around. Here is a picture of my attempt to dry the local cherry tomato. I have since learned I did it all wrong, but the results are pretty and still not too bad. I did not take any pictures of our meal though-too busy eating. Later we took a walk around the resort with Veronica to find the playground behind our house (I had never been there before!). The place is really humming.
But not our front porch. The blue plumbago is in bloom, and things are serene here, As we finally sat alone in the cool quiet of the evening, Steve used his special whistle (well, he folds his hands a special way and blows) to call a morning dove closer. That is one confused bird. He just cannot find the dove that is answering his call!

THIS WEEK IN SICILY

Boy is it fun to have a license! It means you can go anywhere and do anything you want at any time. That’s a totally new feeling for me lately.
Sunday we headed out to the country home of Fabrizio’s mother and Gianni and had a picnic in the rain with friends and relatives (pictured with the beautiful tiles on the walls of the terrace). The house is on the side of Mount Nadore that we never get to visit. They have an incredible garden there and her basil was double the size of mine. We met their friends, a family from Montreal, Jack and Marianna and their daughter Veronica, and spoke a lot of English. The sun came back out as we drove home back to the other side of town which had no rain!
My sunflowers are following the sun and growing tremendously. The tomatoes and peppers are looking real good too. And how will I get rid of all the cucuzzi squash from all of the plants that I have growing?
We have had fun with our American friends Sue, Barrie, Fran, and Kathy, ex-fellow teachers from Saranac Lake. We have been accompanying them on some of their trips, including the pictured shots of Segesta temple and theater, and Erice, where they are pictured by the sidewalk café. We have also had a lot of good food and wine. The beach is lovely this week, the water spectacular, and almost warm enough to snorkel everyday. And the full moon every night has been awesome. Below are some of the pictorial highlights of the week.

PATENTE SI!!

He got it! We are on wheels again as of this AM about 9:30. Thank you one and all for your kind thoughts and prayers.

In his own words.....
Finally!


Today, two and one half months after I was stopped by the Carabinieri for a document check, and my driver’s license was taken away, I have my new Italian driving license. What a trip it has been. The first thing Fran and I did was to drive into town to do some shopping to get ready for four friends who have rented an apartment here. It was so wonderful to drive around in town, legally, and not have to worry about anything. It was even grander to have the wonderful folks at Panificio Americano ask me about the fact that I was driving my car without Michele, my autista (driver). I was able to show them my license, and Calogero Colletti, who owns the shop, gave us a bag of biscotti to help us celebrate. I also got a big hug from the woman at the ortofrutica, and a warm hand shake from her husband.

I seem to have gotten ahead of myself a bit. I need to tell you about the process.

Last Wednesday, I drove around with Aurelio, one of the driving instructors, to make sure that I was ready for the exam on Saturday. He suggested we go one more time on Friday, just to make sure. Stefano had told me that the exam would be Saturday at noon. After our spin around Sciacca on Friday, Stefano asked where I would like to meet him. I told him at the Autoscuola at 11:30 on Saturday. He said that was too late. He double parked and went in to talk with Stefano. Stefano said he would check things out and give me a call.

At 9:00 o’clock Friday night, Stefano finally called and said I should meet at the autoscuola at 8:30. I called Michele and asked him to pick me up at 8:00 to take me in. He was more than willing to do so. When I got to the autoscuola, there were about 24 ragazzi hanging around. I later learned that they were all waiting for their written A license exam, which would allow them to drive their motor scooters legally. There were only three of us who were taking our driving test that day. Aurelio showed up, and he, Deborah (a teacher at the autoscuola), Stefano and I went to the bar around the corner for a cup of coffee. Stefano was talking to someone else as the coffee arrived, so when he turned around I told him that café correto was wonderful. Café correto is espresso with a shot of grappa in it. He looked at me and I smiled and told him no to worry, I would not drink grappa before my exam.

Finally, it was time to leave for the test area, which is at the Sciacca stadium. I walked to Aurellio’s car. There was already someone in the back seat, and Aurelio told me I should drive. I got in, put on my seat belt, adjusted the seat, adjusted the mirror. Aurelio asked if I remembered who had given me my oral exam. I told him Mr. Vaccaro, and that he did a good job, and I understood all the questions. The man in the back seat said: ‘Sono Io’. I turned around and looked at him, and indeed, it was Mr. Vaccaro.

I drove out to the stadium, taking one small detour, and stopping on a hill. I knew that I would have to show the person I knew how to park, and how to deal with more corners and more yield signs, so I was indeed very surprised when we got to the stadium Mr Vaccaro said ‘Complimenti e Auguri. Hai superato’. That meant ‘My compliments and congratulations, you passed.’

What great news. He handed me my license, and Aurelio immediately took it and said that we had to go to the autoscuola to have it registered before I could drive. Stefano was there, and offered to take me to the autoscuola on the back of his moto. I mentioned to him that I did not have a helmet, and he looked at the two examiners who were there, and decided it would be a bad idea.

So I waited for the other two students to take their exam, and then Aurelio drove me back. Stefano followed slowly on his moto. When he finally got to the autoscoula, someone from the department of terrestrial transportation put my numbers into his computer, and I had my license.

Finalmente.

So the saga of the license is over. I now have a valid Italian driver’s license, good throughout the EU, for the next five years, and then I just have to pass the eye exam to get it renewed. Yahoo.

I feel really good about it, and I think the thing that I feel best about is the fact that I also have my first regular Italian document, not just a document given to foreigners. Yahoo.

Hoping that you can overcome obstacles, and that you drive safely, and as Stefano said, can forget all the rules, because you have the license . . .



S

CUTTING TREES

Last weekend our neighbor Toto had some cutting done on his pine trees. There were branches rubbing against the house, a huge birds’ nest was in one, and they were generally looking pretty scraggly. He asked us if we thought he should cut them all down. I of course said yes. The needles make the soil on our property too acid and the shade made it impossible to use part of our land. So after having big chunks of the tops cut off of all of them by the nurserymen that the condo paid for, he arrived early Sunday and between the three of us (well, I only dragged branches off and over the side of the wall), we got the four trees cut.
Then a car drove up and Toto’s wife Anna appeared with their two sons. Whoops! Toto had neglected to tell them about the tree cutting! Anna was a bit put out. First she said she liked the smell of the pine in the summer heat. Then she said the boys liked the trees to sit under and lean against, from when they were little. Finally, she wanted to know why we did not just cut them all down, but that was not my argument to get in to. Actually, she calmed down a whole lot before they left. I yelled at Toto when he said that he had not told her because the outside was man’s business, the inside was woman’s business. I explained that all parts was both partner’s business but he just laughed. That’s an Italian man for you.
Now between the two of us there are just the three tall Araucaria pines that do not have much shade, and the two Palm trees. This is fine by me. I like both of these kinds of trees, and they will survive better and get bigger soon enough. There were just too many trees in our corner of the world. Now we are talking about putting up a greenhouse. I think I want one with a hot tub! So here are a few "Before and After" pictures. The last one is the future site of a new greenhouse/hot tub.

BUTTERFLIES AGAIN AND NIGHT BLOOMING CACTI

These butterlies only took 30 shots! The cacti were taken two different nights, with flash on, then off. I love digital cameras.

BEACH, TOMATOES, BUTTERFLY

We are about a week away from a license. In the meantime, things on the home front continue to capture me and my camera, so humor me. This week there was the long awaited and very welcome event of the annual beach cleaning. I could not wait to get those piles of dead oranges and bamboo off of our beach. (You may remember that this rainy winter the river near Ribera, orange capital of Sicily, overflowed with all the rain and the oranges and river grass came floating out to the sea, eventually deposited in our cove on our beach!). The cleaning couldn’t have happened on a more beautiful day.
We loved watching it from our beach chairs and even if the water was a little too chilly for more than a brief swim, we read our books on the beach for the afternoon. It was actually in the 60’s in the morning here, while the poor relatives in the Dunkirk/Buffalo area sweated in 90 degree weather. Sorry about that-dad, welcome back from the hospital.
Anyway, the garden had a few high and low moments this week. Those wonderful plum tomatoes? From which I thought I could make tons of salsa, ragu, pomodori secchi (sun-dried tomatoes, my favorite!)? They started beautifully but ended with blossom end rot! It was probably started by overwatering and was helped by too high a dose of composted sheep shit. The books also point to lack of calcium, so we withheld water, added plain dirt, and fed them with milk after three days. The Tomato Queen of Virginia Beach helped out a lot (thanks Chris!) but it looks like half of them are going to be bad. Such is life, I guess. And just this week I received another food gift, a large bottle of sun-dried tomatoes from Michele’s (our driver) mother. So what if they are not MY tomatoes? The red peppers in the planters seem to be doing well though. They too had a healthy dose of sheep compost. We shall see.
The 21 shots of the butterfly in the garden this morning yielded a few good one. Enjoy!

PATENTE UPDATE

Again today, Steve updates you and talks about saints.....

Grazie a S Medardo II

Driving to Agrigento, Stefano and I played a game. I tried to note all the things he did wrong in his driving, as he went along 115, ignoring the no passing signs, talking on his telephone, wandering off the side of the road, or crossing into the other lane in a dosso or a curva, and of course speeding.

We had fun with that little diversion.

Finally we arrived at what used to be the Office of Motorization, and now was the office of Terrestrial Transportation. Pretty cool names, eh? There were thirty people outside. Stefano had gotten a phone call while we were on the road, so he was already on the sign up list for folks taking their exam. We just sort of milled around in front of the bland looking building in the Agrigento suburbs, with a view of nothing. Stefano spent his time chatting up the other driving school owners and instructors. One older guy told a long involved tale to his three students (and Stefano and me) about how getting a license used to be a lot easier. As I listened to him, his voice and inflexion sounded exactly like Fran’s father Sam, and it occurred to me suddenly that the guy was speaking Italian (and a bit of Sicilian, not English like Sam does). That was a surprising realization, especially considering how well I understood the story. When he was finished, he looked at me and at Stefano, and Stefano told him I was American. He looked back at me and said ‘You Speak Inglese?’ and I replied ‘Si, e un po d’Italiano, e niente Siciliano. Ma ho capito tutti!’ (I understood it all!) He gave me a big smile.

The doors to the building slowly opened, and the examiners had their last cigarettes, and folks started milling around. Stefano showed me where to sit, and told me it would be fairly soon. I sat about ten feet from the examiner. With the first test taker, I was not able to hear the questions, but the examiner was clearly frustrated, and the driving school teacher who sat two feet to the side kept trying to give encouragement and answers. It was no use, the poor kid failed.

I got to watch two more exams before my turn came. I could hear the questions. I knew all the answers. The instructors continued to sit nearby, and offer help when they could, and were told to keep quiet more than once by the examiner. I began to feel confident. I wondered if the interrogator was Toto’s friend Indelicato. Then it was my turn. Stefano did not take the seat reserved for the instructor, instead he just wandered around the large room. The examiner had asked all the others about fifteen questions, including recitations of when not to pass, or what a B license was good for. When it was my turn, he asked about five questions. The hardest was the short recitation of the meaning of ‘distance of security’ used to keep from having an accident on a ‘Salita Pericoloso’. When I gave what he thought was a particularly elegant answer, he shook my hand and congratulated me, and I told him it was only because my teacher had been good. He told Stefano to come over and listen to the exam.

Then he showed me a picture of a five way intersection, and asked who had precedence. He told me if I got it right, I would pass then and there; if not he would ask questions for another fifteen minutes. I looked at it. Everyone was making turns this way and that, and all of them had to give precedence to another car to the right. I went around and around figuring who each would have to give precedence to. He showed me another picture, an easier one, a four way intersection, with all four cars going straight. Again, each would have to give precedence to the one on the right. I told him that, and said that I would wait until someone went, then I would cede precedence to the right. He smiled and told me that I was American, not Sicilian. In Sicily, all would go, and I said that then there would be another big accident, like always in Sicily. He smiled and shook my hand.

Later, Stefano told me the guy’s name was Vaccaro, not Indelicato. He also told me that he was confident all along that I would pass, that I knew the material, and now I could forget it.

I have my practical test on June 18th, and if I pass that (and I am told it is far easier than the oral) I will have my license that day. I noticed how beautiful the country side was between Sciacca and Agrigento, and felt strongly how much I have missed driving through it with Fran. I really look forward to taking the test and getting on the road again. Then it will be Saint Gregory’s feast day on the Italian Calender, and of course none of the seven St Gregory’s in my hagiographies have their feast day on the 18th. This Gregory must be another mystery, like St. Medardo.

My Penguin book of saints says it will be St Elizabeth of Schanau’s Day, as well as Saints Mark and Marcellian’s (Marco and Marcelliano?) Day. According to the fictional accounts of St Sebastian, Mark and Marcellian were Roman twins, and their dates are not known. They refused the pleas of their wives and children to save their lives through apostasy, and were beheaded. The true story is not known. My other hagiography (Calendar of Saints for Unbelievers) says it will be Saint Osanna Andreasi’s day.

My all of the Saints be with me as I take my test, and may they be with you as you enjoy your lives.

S

PATENTE ITALIANA

GUEST WRITER STEVE JONAS (STEFANO)

Thank you Saint Medardo!!
Grazie a S Medardo

Most folks would be surprised to see me giving thanks to a Saint. But Saint Medardo is special, very special. According to one of our calendari, yesterday was St Medardo’s feast day. I took my oral exam yesterday as well, as sort of a feast day celebration, I suppose. According to my two hagiographies, it was also the feast day of St John of Rayunce (of whom, the hagiography says nothing is known), St Melania the Elder (about whom the hagiography mainly mentions that she was the grandmother of St Melania the Younger, was widowed at the age of 22, spent most of her time hanging out with St Jerome, left Rome just before the Vandals invaded, and finally, that she was a real bitch to her children and grandchildren. Then it was also the feast day for William of York, whose story is so well known I will not go into it.

Anyway, because my two books about the lives of the saints do not mention St. Medardo, and because they are in English, and because our calendar is Italian and the folks around here take feast days much more seriously (in the old days, one did not get birthday presents here, they got Saint’s days presents, on the day of the Saint for whom they were named!! Immagine a poor kid named Mohammed!!) I like to follow the Saint days.

I went to my lesson today. I was nervous. I had not slept well, I had dreamed of meeting an examiner who did not like Americans, and who would be tough on me. There were two new students at the Scuolaguida. We reviewed some stuff. The most fun was reviewing the sign that shows an airplane, and warns of low altitude planes. Deborah asked where such signs could be found. The Polish women did not know. The analphabetic pizza delivery guy (who delivered pizza without a license), who worked for Fabrizio when Friends was a good pizzeria, and now was driving (without a license) twenty kilometres one way each day to work at a restaurant in Porto Paolo, did not know. I told Deborah there were two places. She shook her head and said ‘No, solo una.’ Then I told her near an airport and near a ski lift. She remembered the US fighter that showed off by swooping low, and hooking up with a ski lift, killing about 30 people, and flying on as if nothing had happened. Of course the US paid for damages, but claimed no real responsibility nor did the show off pilot get severely punished for killing thirty people through a prank.

Deborah smiled and suggested two other places, the twin towers and the Pentagon. She is nothing if not fairly sharp. The other two students did not understand.

I went home for a quick pranzo with Fran, and then my driver, Michele, dropped me off at a bar at Porto Palermo to wait for Stefano, one of the owners of the driving school, who was going to pick me up to take me to Agrigento for my oral exam. Everyone had wished me luck, and Toto next door had said he would talk to his friend Indelicato who gave the tests to make sure I got through. While I was waiting, I came out of the bar where we were supposed to meet to see the left overs of an accident in front of Porto Palermo. A moto had tried to illegally pass a panel truck as the panel truck was making an illegal left turn. The moto lost, and the moto driver (who was wearing his helmet!) was sitting on the curb with what looked like a broken leg. The panel truck driver was, of course nervous, and the usual cast of by standers, or standers by, were talking to both men, running to a bar to get cold water for the injured man to drink, and calling the police and an ambulance.

The ambulance made the ten minute trip to Porto Palermo from the hospital quicker than the police could arrive, and then it was simply the flagging down of a police car that got their attention. I truly think that all of the police officers were home having pranzo, as the ones who arrived with their lights flashing (three cars worth) came from all three roads leading to Porto Palermo that do NOT come from the police station.

Anyway, the first poliziotta at the scene was OUR BITCH. We have always looked for this woman since first we got to Sciacca, and went to the police station down town looking for the Police Commissioner’s office so that we could register with the Questura and get our Permisso. She was downright nasty to us, and we left calling her a bitch. Later we saw her on the street, and she actually smiled at us. After that, when we would see her and smile and wave, we would say to each other: ‘She may be a bitch, but at least she is OUR bitch.’

Being first on the scene, our bitch and her partner set about directing traffic and ignoring the guy sitting on the curb being attended to by the ambulance folks. There would be time to talk to him at the hospital, after stopping for a coffee or two, I guess. They guy’s daughter arrived, and tried to sooth him. It was touching, as she was about eleven years old, and was so sweet and motherly with her father.

Finally, more police arrived, more traffic was directed, pictures were taken, measurements were made, discussions were had, folks who had not been there until after I got there came forward to tell the police what had happened, the moto was picked up and taken to the side of the road (there is a rule that if anyone is injured, you are not supposed to move any vehicle parts until after the police have measured and taken all the pictures they want), verbales (records) were written (I suppose if they were tape recorded, they would be called scritores), temporary cones replaced in the trunks of cars, and peace reigned supreme. I went back to the bar to meet Stefano, who arrived within minutes. Off we went to Agrigento and Part II of this report, or Part IV of the story of my license to drive.

Hope you are able to witness rather than being in an accident, and that all of the measurements are correct. . .

S

CONSTRUCTION IN SICILY

We have watched several buildings being constructed in our time here. It is fascinating to see how much they differ from how things are built in the states. As mentioned before, some homes are worked on intermittently by families when they have the time and money (first picture) and some are part of larger complexes.
For starters, the foundation is a slab with some stones below for drainage. Then the only wood that is used is for the forms for the concrete frames for walls and room dividers, taken away and re-used over and over. Yet we know two people who have homes using lots of wood inside. Our neighbor on the tennis court, Emilio the marble works salesman, has a living room of huge dark wood panels right out of a California showplace. That is what it reminds me of, anyway. I asked him last night, where this wood came from, and he said that there are only nut trees in Italy, that it was pine and it came from Sweden. We joked about the fact that most wood is only used for cooking pizza and breads in outdoor ovens here. Actually, this wood for pizza IS mainly cuttings from grapes and olive trees.
And Gaspare, our first landlord, had large timbers on the ceiling of his outside terrace, but they had to be replaced because the termites got the best of them. We keep finding little piles of wood dust and knew there was a big problem there! Also, the inside was knotty pine, but that was thin sheets over a thin and uninsulated frame, so we knew all too well when the wind was blowing outside.
Anyway, they use cement and concrete block for the construction of all the structures we see going up. Rerod sticks out of the cement to form connections with other parts of the building frame. Cement block, either hollow (as in the pictures here) or solid (as in our building) are then mortared into place, and the whole smoothed over with a kind of stucco. Then the inside finish is gesso and white wash, and finally, paint. We have already commented on how few house fires there are here and lately I have realized that house fires as well as car fires are usually the work of arson, most particularly, mafia retribution for not paying protection money. There are also the occasional exploding propane tanks, but those are blasts, not just fires.
And of course the illegal dumps on the road leading away from the construction site are pretty common. Once the job is done, who is going to make them clean it up?

HOUSING BOOM

Our area has very few older homes and previously considered a resort destination, it has quickly become a middle to upper-class suburban building area. The farmers used to have fields full of crops on both sides of our street corners out to the main road. But now we have been told new housing will go up on one big lot before the corner, built for French vacation homes. The other big block of farm land has been divided up into 35 building lots but as you can see from the picture, the farmer still has plowed the fertile land until the sales are final. I will miss seeing the fields of cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, eggplant, peppers, and melons. And what a waste of good fertile land!!
Our home is part of one of the last multiple ownership buildings constructed in the vicinity. We are still the only full-time year round residents for a long way, but there are full time residents across the valley in several sections. Because of the geography of our region, we can see for long distances especially when we climb up a bit further. One of the problems with this is seeing the concrete remains of an abandoned multiple housing project pretty close by. We have been told that the structures were not up to code on earthquake specifications. Whatever, they sit there silently, ominously overlooking the whole valley. What a shame that it has to mar the view for so many. In fact, I would not want to inhabit the new house going up right next to it!
But there are some really lovely houses nearby. The styles are Mediterranean and they vary enough to all be interesting. There are some tracts of houses that are all the same, but at least they have interesting architecture. Many houses are hidden behind fences and gardens but closer by the sea, they are more out in the open.
Some of my favorite ones are the older ones. Sicilians often have a house in the country as well as an apartment in town, so there are some rather old country homes nearby. However the older they are the older the vegetation is and it is hard to see them because they are so blocked off by foliage. The last two pictures are of an older country home that I think is really nice for its simplicity and its view.
Next time-construction in Sicily.

A WALK ON A CLOUDY DAY

Today is a national holiday in Sicily, Republic Day, and Steve says it is the end of World War 2, when the Germans left Italy and the Italian Republic was born. He had the day off from driver’s school and we woke to a cloudy day, fairly cool, in the low 70’s. It seemed to me a perfect day to go for a long walk. I knew the lighting for pictures might be easier with no sun to contend with and there would be little contrast in vistas, since the air and the sea are the same color today. Although it looked like we might be rained on, we decided to chance it and readied ourselves for the joy of checking out the flowers, farming, and building in our immediate vicinity. So we set out on our hour and a half mountain valley route, up and down the circle of roads in our vicinity.
The beach has not been cleaned yet. That was the first thing we noticed. Even though we know that the contract for cleaning beaches starts in June it was foolhardy to expect it on the second day of June. Now the main road is closed while the frana (road collapse I showed pictures of before) is being worked on. We heard two estimates for that job’s completion, 20 days or 2 months. Maybe the heavy machine cannot go around the detour very well. So we may have to wait for that, maybe for 20 days, maybe two months.
Our area is experiencing a real building boom. There are single dwellings being worked on weekends by occasional family help or amateur builders, clumps of two or three houses offered on speculation, and even a 10 villa site on our route back home. We checked the progress of all of those and found that some had progressed much further than others, and that the workers were all on holiday this Republic Day. We also found several questionable construction dumps on back roads. I will send pictures of Italian construction methods at a later time.
Meanwhile, the flowers and plants are going through their yearly cycle, so here is a catalogue of what each picture is:
Picture 1-artichoke-carciofi-when you leave the artichoke on the vine, it makes this gorgeous purple flower. You can smell artichoke in the air when you walk by this field!
2. Corner farmer’s field-His tomatoes and peppers are smaller but squash much further than mine
3. Wild fennel-finocchio-these clumps have been picked off of many times, but you will see tender shoots coming from the old plants almost all year long. Everyone uses the wild leaves to flavour pastas and salads, but would buy the big domesticated clumps in grocery stores for eating like celery stalks.
4. Broom-ginestra-This plant also has a strong scent and can be seen in clumps everywhere this time of year
5. Bougainvillea-The combination of colors here is striking, but not as striking as the coral color with the fuchsia.
6. Wildflowers-near the end of the yellow margarita season, with red poppies and pink morning glories and yellow cactus above right
7. Cactus, prickly pear-fico d’India-Almost past prime flowering, on its way to maturing the fruit.
8. Purple heather?-Erica-It looks like heather but has a much fleshier stem, not woody at all. So I don’t know anymore about it except it grows at the edge of two wet shady spots nearby.
9. Acanthus-The classical Greek flower that was the inspiration for Corinthian column decorations

JUNE GARDEN, SICILY WRITING

Happy June and Happy Birthday to my daughter Jessica. I don’t remember turning 23 years old, but I know I must have somewhere back then. Anyway, June has always been one of my favorite months of the year. The green is always fresh and the weather mild. As I tell Steve each year, the day Jess was born in 1982, the weather in the entire US was fabulous. I don’t know what it was like in Sicily, but here it is not so mild, and we have already had a few scorchers. Today is almost too hot to go to the beach.
Besides, I have taken up my writing again, and have been working on a few short stories at a time to fill in my book, Sicilian Tales. Maybe someday I will feel like finishing it, but not too soon. I enjoy the writing process too much for that. It’s the editing that has stymied me. My editor friend Claudia did a fabulous job last year making helpful suggestions for things that needed changing. And so I thought about them for awhile, and a few months later, about this time last year, I lost some parts of editing and one story when my computer crashed. It is only now that I think I can go back and work at it, and I already have had a fine time editing the last two that I wrote (well, not the lost one-I cannot reconstruct that one for the life of me!).
The stories are based on geography, characters, and situations that are found here in the Sciacca, Sicily area. The various cultural aspects of life here fascinate me, so different from the states, yet so universal. So I have tried to tell stories that could really happen to fictional characters. For flavor, there is a smattering of Italian in them, even some Sicilian.
But sometimes the garden calls me, and I love seeing how much the red peppers, tomatoes, and volunteer sunflowers have grown. The Canna bulbs that dad gave me (which I did not need to take out of the ground because it does not freeze here) came up again this year. The orange and yellow tree lantana and the red hibiscus and fuchsia bougainvillea are just in bloom, and the bare pommelo tree finally has started some leaves. The mussel soup we made today with the first of the fresh basil from the garden was excellent, and from the markets, the fresh melons and local tiny strawberries are tasty and satisfying. Happy June Everyone!