SJ Rozan

Last weekend was our final one at Rancho Obsesso this season. As always with the Rancho, we can’t say for sure we’ll be back in the same house next year — depends a little on us, but mostly on the landlord, who might sell the place, decide they need it themselves, or suddenly demand some silly amount of money. But generally we do go back, at least for four or five years until one of the above happens. So it’s an odd feeling. You have to say goodbye and let go, because it’s certainly the end of the season and might be forever. On the other hand, you might be back on the same chair in the same yard in what always seems like a very few months. So you can’t make a big fuss about goodbye.

So we didn’t. We had a quiet weekend, saw some friends, took final swims and final bike rides, and watched the geese circling, practicing for their own departure. Said good luck to the squirrels hiding their acorns and the twin fawns chomping our lilies. Ate the last of the local corn and raspberries. And so I leave you with the sunrise.

… for a sweet new year. I suppose peace is a little too much to ask for, but let’s hope, anyway.

photo by ForestForTrees

Diana Nyad’s current location!

…which is the same as the Dept. of People You Love Because They’re Insane, comes this. Holy Toledo, I say!

And you didn’t even know I was here, right?

Been running around The Eternal City for three hot hot days. Lots of walking, lots of cappuccino. Saw the Velasquez of Innocent X at the Gallery Pomphilij, a painting that makes the Pope look so mean that when he saw it he said, “It is too true!” Went to the Borghese Gardens and Gallery, saw some beautiful Caravaggios and some pretty mediocre other paintings, too. Sat in the sidewalk cafe at Harry’s Bar for a little refreshment after that, and ended the afternoon with a visit to Rome’s famous cat sanctuary. One cat wanted to come home with me, and he was a charmer, but Bella wouldn’t be happy about that so I reluctantly left him behind.

Last night, Carlos Dews and I turned into Sam Cabot and did a reading from BLOOD OF THE LAMB, along with Conor Fitzgerald reading from his new Italy-set novel, THE MEMORY KEY. It was a lovely event, followed by, in true Roman style, a 10:30 pm dinner for 16 people at a nearby Sicilian restaurant. This morning, had breakfast with a friend I hadn’t seen in 15 years. Soon, going out for a final dinner — pasta al limone, if we can get it.

Then, tomorrow at 6 am, arrivederci Roma and back to the real world.

Always bittersweet. All the places I meant to get to but didn’t, or only got to once and never went back; on the other hand, new places, or old places visited with much more frequency, like the little cafe on the edge of the cliff whose tiny garden has a breathtaking view of the valley. In past years we went there once or twice. This year my pal Shoup and I went there almost every day, to discuss issues of vast importance to the world at large. Or, other issues. Lots of cappuccino had, and gelato and Pane di San Francesco which luckily for me is not available in NYC. And if it is, please don’t tell me about it. A couple of concerts attended, plus a procession and half an early morning mass. Lots and lots of long walks in lots and lots of heat. And of course, classes. Good batch of students this year, some serious work getting done. All in all, well worth coming, and although lots of good/interesting/unpredictable/exciting stuff will happen between now and then, already looking forward to next year.

Bells sound around town.

Churches’ loud invitations

Bounce and ring off stone.

Broad sky fills with clouds.

Riding on a lively wind,

Piling above hills.

Tourists at railing

Can’t get enough of the fields.

I’ve stood there myself.

The Hotel Giotto just went live with a brand-flippin’-new website. So if you want to see where we do this Art Workshop in Assisi thing, check it out.

It’s been so hot here in Assisi — over 100F every day — that the horses that graze in the field down in the valley have refused to move out from under the shade of the single big tree. They crowd around it, swishing their tails and inching over as the sun slips through the sky. The pigeons, too, have been only desultorily circling, preferring to spend their days in the cool of the church towers. Assisi certainly has enough churches that every pigeon in town can find a shadow to sit in. A blue heat haze hangs over the valley, making photographing difficult, and no matter how light and airy the linen you packed you find you’re changing clothes three times a day.

Not that this keeps me from my walks. The longest, fastest, and most energetic is always the earliest: before breakfast, just as the 7:00 am church bells are starting up, I go out, this way or that, uphill or down, along the road or climbing the stairs. Since it’s really impossible to get lost here I eventually get back to the hotel, drink what seems like a gallon of water, and then have tea. Other folks from the workshop begin arriving around then. We have breakfast on the terrace and I go upstairs to write.

I teach from 1:30-4:00. Then comes the second walk, sometimes longer, sometimes shorter, with one or more of the other teachers, to find a cup of cappuccino and a place to sit and drink it and talk. The third walk is after dinner, with whatever group wants to go, in what should be the cool of the evening but lately has been so still and close that it only seems reasonable, on that walk, to stop for gelato. Gelato in the piazza, I

Carlos Dews and I are both in Italy, but in case you miss me — he lives here, so no one’s missing him — and you need to hear Sam Cabot on the subject of, well, Sam Cabot, here’s a podcast we did at Thrillerfest.