It's Amore

Filled with the life and love of a region lush with sentiment and pride, I will forever reorient my life from the compass of Umbria. The dry olive groves and glowing grape vines encircle my psyche. To the Italians and Americans along for the ride, a toast to the final day. French and Italian music is flowing from outdoor speakers as we begin La Fine. The Coliseum and Spanish steps await in Rome tomorrow before crushing the momentousness of this experience into a silver sliver home. The last images of the final excursion, to hometown Montefalco and official wine tasting. With a nod of my cap and a renewed sparkle in my eye - to Umbria in all it's enchanting glory, Chin Chin!

I Go Walkin' After Midnight

The vineyards are bathed in moonlight, and the enchanting company of fourteen intellectuals cannot be overstated. With flowers, well-timed cards, and a cake from new friends, a trans-Atlantic birthday celebration brought a centered peace. Thank you all for proliferating love and know that I hold each of you dearly here in my heart. Bastille Day libations and liberation preceded a trip to the fortress in Spoleto and shopping in Foligno. The sweet bloom of eastern freedom is already beginning to close and change to a western wind. Our last trip, a jaunt to hometown Montefalco and surrounding winery, begins the first step on a long downhill trek home. With open, loving arms, I look forward to seeing you all again soon.

Walking the Line

It’s with a heavy heart and mind that I stand in solidarity in the footsteps of a man who had the courage to walk away. Saint Francis beckons us all to get up and follow, and most importantly, listen with our faculties open. The son of one of the wealthiest merchants in all of Italy, when Saint Francis returned dejectedly from war, he heard Christ’s calling to leave behind all his material possessions in the face of eminent peril. In a symbol of complete immersion, he stripped naked in the town square and walked out of the walls of Assissi never to return to a life committed to anything other than helping the poor and weak. Not wanting his own legacy to die, Saint Francis’ notoriously angry father committed him to a 2 foot jail cell claiming he was clearly mad. As mothers are wont to do, Saint Francis’ came to his aid and released him to a life of serving others. I am confirmed-ly returning to the States without a job that has defined me for over a decade. If Saint Francis can walk away intentionally, surely I can follow when the hardest part of the decision has already been made for me. Assissi, the spot where I, with many others, have heavily weighed the opportunities before me.

Bastille Day celebrations are in the making, freshly delivered early Birthday flowers have arrived from My Matthew and Winston, and after 48 perilous hours, the internet has briefly returned. My 32 year of life begins with our host's initiated French-infused independence.

Over the Rainbow

Golden sunflowers glow as another day of writing workshop unfolds. Fresh garden vegetables, salty meats, hearty breakfasts fill the table of San Marco...

Another Stone in the Wall

Like everything else here in Central Italy, the weather is perfecto, even for climbing through vertical hill towns like Spello and Colapigna (a surprise, unplanned side trip by the bus driver determined to defy sliding stones and non-passable crests). Perched high along the Umbrian Valley, these walled fortresses are home to cave-like dwellings which crack open and burst alive in the evenings. It is only we Americanos and other European tourists who deftly traipse along the open cobblestone in the mid-day 90 degree heat. Each winding stone archway and hidden crevice are filled with wet color and thriving greens. No dirt or grass exist in these towns, only stunning peacock-like displays of personal vegetation. Spello...the first wine swirlings and olive oil tasting cave; Colapigna...Italia in all its authentic splendor.