Monday, September 03, 2018

Artnotes: and an Olive

 Rainstorm from via Dante  Laurie Fox Pessemier  Acrylic/canvas  16 x 12"  40 x 30 cm 

 Castello Orsini  Blair Pessemier  Acrylic/canvas  20 x 16"  50 x 40cm

 Tiber from via Dante  Blair Pessemier  Acrylic/canvas   16 x 20"  40 x 50cm 

 Blue/Black Hen   LaurieFox Pessemier  Acrylic/canvas  12 x 16"  30 x 40 cm

 Swimming at the Panero   Blair  Pessemier  Acrylic/canvas   18 x 36"  40 x 80cm

Trees end of August   Blair Pessemier  Acrylic/canvas  16 x 20"   40 x 50 

At coffee this morning we joke with the barman about the tonneau of gentian liquor on the bar.  “Is that Vladimir’s brew?”  of course.  He makes liquor from a local plant.   I tell him how it brought tears to my eyes.  “Do you not drink alcohol?” he asks.

We are back in Stimigliano after months in the USA and in Rocca Malatina.  We’re actually only here for a short visit, and even though we’ve been gone just 2 and a half months, we’ve had a rousing welcome.  Ignatio gave us tomatoes, cukes peppers and an eggplant.  Dario brought the mail he’s been collecting: strictly bills.  He rearranged our lemon trees (which he waters) for maximum sun.  We have a half-dozen big green fruits in place.  We wish a hearty “Buon Giorno” and “Salve” to all.

The road which circles the town is open again – it’s been closed for years for construction.  Now one can double back up behind commune, formerly a medieval church, and find parking.  It leads to our Dutch friend’s house, where Harika thinks she belongs, with Monet’s garden and the infinity swimming pool. The fields are mowed, and the wheat has given way to tilled earth.  There could be another planting this year.

The view from our apartment is fabulous, the Tiber taking on a flat green shade.  The trees are thick alongside, a result of our very rainy spring.  I am itching to take a boat ride, available from near Poggio Mirteto.

A friend from far away just asked me about Stimigliano, and I told him, “it’s nowheresville”.  And it is nowhere.  Nothing big will happen here, but it’s a good place for getting things done.  In Blair’s and my case, we write, we paint.  For 4 euros, we can take the train into Rome, something on the agenda this week.  I promise to send my friend pictures, and info on some houses for sale (they range from 35,000 Euros upward), and a little written piece, which you are reading, about the town. 

Amazingly, we are really part of this Italian hill town.  Because there are less than 50 of us living in the borgo, we all know one another.  There are a few people we don’t take to, or they to us, but mostly, we’ve been woven in, like a couple of bright stray threads, into the fabric of the place.  We don’t agree with everyone’s politics (maybe no one’s), but that’s the case throughout Italy.  Politics doesn’t matter as much here.  In fact, where can one go where philosophies are to our liking?

Blair tells Gianfranco that I drink wine.  I suggest to him we develop a Gentian cocktail.  “A cocktail?” he asks. “With Vermouth, or Club Soda,” I reply. Yes, we’ll call it “The Stimi”.  And add an olive from Sabina.

ps.  in fact, gin was the thing -- and a touch of aperol for fruitiness

No comments: