I promised my landlady I would write some kind of ode to this place that weíve called home for almost a whole year now. In many ways, Iíve been writing this ode since the day we moved in, because there are many things to love.
I love that our kitchen looks like it should be on the Food Network.
I love that there is lavender growing on our terrace. And rosemary, and sage. And white roses in spring.
There are many things that we have learned, as well. That you need to buy your firewood early enough in the season, so that you donít miss the cured stuff. That having little old lady neighbors all around you, is pretty awesome. (If they like you, they might sign for your Amazon packages. They might make you a crostata di prugne.)
I love that we have a fireplace, and a wood-burning pizza oven, and an upright piano. The piano might not be tuned, but then neither am I.
I love that if there is sunlight to be had on any given day, this house shall have it.
This place is not for everyone. (There are very few places that are.) But itís special. And it has been good for us. When itís been warm, weíve camped out on the terrace and soaked up more sun than a beach towel at Cancello Otto. When itís cold, there is always a walk down a windy, woodsmokey street to whet your country appetite. And in between and all over, there are all the little towns to explore: from Soriano nel Cimino to Sorano and Sovana, from Bolsena to Bagnoregio and Bevagna -- a sagra-filled selection of little villages and tiny towns that make you feel like youíre a lifetime away from Rome. In a good way.
I love that the lady in the piazzetta makes ravioli so fresh they feel like they were born on your tongue.
And I love that every single time I look out the window, itís always alright.
[Via Belvedere, Orte]
[giovedž 06 dicembre 2012 ore 12:49:08] [¶]