Sunday, 18 March 2012

more of the wild winds...

That got interrupted by out late  lunch -- which was typically delicious -- like: creamy sweet-potato soup, followed by scrumptious hot dish baked with tomatoes, eggs and aubergine and washed down (!) with steaming hot tea made with pieces of root ginger. And accompanied by nutty brown bread and butter. Ah Italy has its rivals, perhaps?
The sun has returned and everything shines once more, we see the young greens, and the reddish tones of the burgeoning willow trees; though the cold wind is still with us.
David and I have done much swift striding over hill and muddy dale (on Friday eve in the windy rain, through the sabbath-silent streets, the light flickering down onto the dim, wet paving-stones).
The next evening the crowds were out once more; it was St Patrick's day and green abounded. We went to the pub where Tilla works, to say 'hi', but the noise was overwhelming, so swift exit.

I am still absorbing, and listening, and watching. Never cease wondering.
I looked at my hands today, saw the veins bumpy like swollen rivers, never noticed that before. Like suddenly seeing oneself in a full-length mirror -- is that round grey-haired lady really me? Yes, the outside changes, and becasue it's really the inside that's most interesting, we scarcely notice the alterations taking place until well after they have become established.
But there are still plenty of hills to climb and high shelves to reach up to.
And I still have lots to learn about to play with my MacBook Air...

Two and a half more days and then back to Ostia...
David is busy formulating plans for the summer sail...

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