News from the bosco

I am waiting for a call to tell me that the foal has been born at the house I call CASA CAVALLINA, a wild and peaceful place in the foothills of the mountains.

Miracles of Le Marche: 2. cat-door

When we moved to our hillside my beloved cat Fazzi went missing, presumed dead. For thirty days and thirty nights I searched for him, looking for his dear black shape and as I skirted our house calling his name I would pass the stable doors and each time something dark caught my eye. It was not Fazzi, but a Fazzi-shaped hole. I took this as a sign that something good would come of his disappearance. And indeed it did: Fazzi Film 2003

Palazzo Alaleona

I have been asked to find an owner for the most heartbreakingly beautiful palazzo belonging to a noble family from Rome. I cannot describe how stunning it is inside and only hope the photographs I took will help convey what I saw. Here history remains intact, unaffected by the modern world, which makes you want to throw away all you have and move in immediately.

Miracles of Le Marche: 1. deer-vine

Once upon a time, six years ago when we first came to our hillside in Le Marche, a serious of magical things occurred. Some can be explained. Others cannot. This is one of them.

Today sunny and very cold but the first plum blossom out. Sam ploughing a patch near the summer washing line so we can plant our pomidori. Little market in the village today, and great to see everyone out in the sunshine. Planted piselli as the seeds i planted in the autumn did not appear, but Rita said this is because the winter was so very wet and peas dislike too much water. I have much to learn from her.

Umbrella pine stretches over Adriatic sea

Postcard found at Porto San Giorgio station, whilst waiting to catch the train to Venice.

The thoughts of umbrella pines

I am smitten with the three young umbrella pine trees Lars gave me that are planted outside my window. Recently two of them have slightly dropped their lower branches, whereas the other retains its pompom shape, and it occurred to me that trees have ideas of their own. They know how and when their branches will create their graceful shapes. I scrutinize all the umbrella pines I see, trying to calculate when mine will reach the roof of our house, when they will touch each other and create a canopy for us to sit beneath.

News from the bosco

Here in the woods it has been clear, bright, windy day and a linen sheet flaps on the line. Sam is organising his workshop, completely covered in sawdust. I have seen a ruined farmhouse with three most wonderful cypress trees, standing right outside the front door like welcoming hosts. On the way home Rita the baker hesitated over which of her pane di noce to give me. Selecting the best of the four loaves in her basket she wrapped my bread in thin white paper. A warm, kind, walnutty parcel.