Uno Fuoco

Saturday night me, Sandro and the boys set up fresh produce at a local festival nearby. The streets were lined with tents selling everything from roasted corn on the cob to light up bracelets. A stage had been set up on which a band played traditional Italian music which sounded unfortunately like polka gibberish. Old couples floated across the dance floor, dresses flowing in the cool breeze. Everywhere were the sounds of laughter and singing, children running in the streets and people sipping limoncello. I walked around with the boys which was interesting because people assumed that they were my sons and one very kind vendor let "my boys" ride on her slide for free. We ate suasage paninis and drank amber beers as we sat on the sidewalk watching people waste money on toy dogs and cotton candy. The man set up next to our tent had the most beautifully painted pottery so I couldnt help but buy my mother something (which she will be getting in the mail shortly). The man even gave me a discount because he said I could keep a secret since I couldnt tell anyone in Italian the deal he had given me.
Yesterday was a quiet day-a Sunday and in the afternoon when the sun was too hot to bear, Sandro and I sat in the kitchen drinking red wine while the children slept. It is amazing the depth of the conversations we have even with our language impairments. We talk about family, a corrupted state, the institution of marriage and life in general. He is easy to talk to and I cherish the words we exchange over biscotti dipped in plum and cherry wines. Last night before dark put all to sleep, I noticed smoke rising from the mountains. As happens every year according to Sandro, there was a wild fire although this one was worse than usual. For hours and continuing in the morning, the constant thrum of helicopters was heard up above. We piled into the tractor and drove down to the pond where that helicopters were continuously replenishing their buckets of water. The beautiful fire lit up the distant mountains-a line of red and orange dancing against the night sky. Sometimes those things most dangerous are also those most beautiful because we find solace in things we cannot control.

Molto Amore,
Bella