rallentare, mia figlia

italy’s spring awakening
(and me, here, just counting down the days)

One does not need a reason to share a photo of a pasta Piaggio in Roma.

Working on a new batch of chapters of this Italian experience for you (for me but also for you*). But have taken a little pause to soak things up and think through what to say and how to say it next. Thank you for being here, grazie for your time and your attention. It’s precious to me.

While I have your attention for now, we’re in the last days of brisk winter here. One last kiss of cold and fresh snow when we wake up and look towards the Dolomites landed this week. This once self-proclaimed-workaholic has found a niche as a sourdough baker in a place where the tang of that dough can’t be found. Waking up at 4 o’clock in the morning and packaging product tied in ribbon for my customers is humbling and exactly what I needed. The farmers have started waking up the earth at the root of the vineyards to get ready for spring’s awakening. The dirt here tilled looks like chocolate cake. My daughter will be two soon, and she’s ready for high school (rallentare, mia figlia!) and the baby goats next door have been born.

That last part, clearly the takeaway.

Andiamo…