From Squirrel and Sunday lunch to Smorgasbord

How I spent my Sunday. April 28, 2019

I arrived here in Mazzarelli a month ago.  During that time I enjoyed visits here from American friends and also went to Spain for 10 days for a watercolor workshop.  This being my first opportunity to post on this blog, I’ve decided to talk about today, my Sunday.

But before I begin, I want to mention that my goal for this blog is to talk about Umbrian people, the culture, the quirks – this is not a travelogue.  In my next posts I intend to introduce you to the few Umbrians whom I count among friends and acquaintances.  I hope to focus my time and attention while living here in Mazzarelli on those relationships.  As I’ve mentioned before, I doubt I’ll ever become truly accepted by the locals,  but I’m taking small baby steps in that direction. I’m still working on Dante, in ancient and modern  Italian, with teacher Dani, e.g.

OK!  Today, Sunday!! After breakfast in bed of croissants and hot tea brought to me by Bob, it was time for second breakfast at Lia’s “Scoiattolo” (The Squirrel).  Many friends convene in Lia and Fausto’s home kitchen, where she turns out fantastic breads from her custom-made wood-fired oven. We drink coffee and chat.  It’s a crowd, we go early!  Lia uses her German know-how about bread. Fausto, her Italian husband, is her helper. It’s THE place to be on Sunday morning here in Paciano: locals, English, Dutch, Czechs, Germans and Americans!!

Making room for others to sit, we leave the “Squirrel” and take a  40 minute walk around Paciano (our hamlet “Mazzarelli” is a “suburb” of Paciano), starting up the steep hill through the spreading buttercups, past lilacs, roses abloom and ancient olive trees.  Into tiny Paciano, with the Buitoni palace on the corner (they of Buitoni pasta and Perugina chocolate fame, now all sold to Nestle or Unilever) past the tiny church where localites marry, up another hill to the  bar/caffe..  We run into Oriana and Franco, standing beside their car while their daughter makes a quick diaper change for 2 year old Augusto.  Oriana is a friend of mine, we speak French together.  She’s a leader in the Paciano/Fontaines sister city program with France.  And works at the nearby apple farm and greengrocer stand.

We greet the new proprietor of the little coffee bar, but forego another cup of coffee.  We walk behind the main church (mass at 11 on Sunday, we don’t go) for a panorama photo.

By now you have gathered that our time here in Italy is focused on food – so it’s time for Sunday lunch at Julio’s.  I love their garlic and tomato bruschetta, their  lasagna and, Bob their cacio and pepe and all the meats Julio grills over open fire.  Today we decide to go easy on food, but we can’t resist the panna cotta dessert covered with “frutte di bosco” (fruits of the woods, mostly frozen currants).

After a lazy post-pranzo afternoon reading John Grisham, painting and resting, we celebrate with what I call a “smorgasbord.”  This means I take out all the leftovers from the fridge and set them out along with whatever I find, be it cottage cheese or apple.

Our habit is to watch American TV after dinner, maybe Barry or Killing Eve..  We have no Italian TV by choice and economics, though it would be so great for me to practice Italian.  Just have to rely on real people and Duo Lingo!

We need to rest for Monday for the water softener technician, DHL etc.

Til next time!  (You can expect 6 posts between now and mid-June).

Bella Ciao/Sweet Caroline


See below Squirrel (bakery) Lo Sciattolo, Buitoni Palace, view from our window of Mts. Cetona and Amiata, buttercups in neighborhood, Paciano parish church, ancient olive tree






December 21, 2018

I’m hereby “launching” this blog by sending the address to loads of people.  Having just re-read my writing to date, I apologize for a few typos, e.g. Mt. “Amiata” and others.

I’ve been back in the US for two weeks exactly — meaning to write a few words about the vicissitudes of transtatlantic air travel.  Now, many would say, and correctly so, that I’m darned lucky to spend time in Rome and to be able fly back and forth.  A real jet-setter.  I agree.

But that doesn’t keep me from complaining...

First, there’s the awful Hilton Rome Airport Hotel.   We choose it because it’s so easy to walk from the hotel room across a pedestrian bridge to the departure gate.  The receptionist at the “Hilton Honors” desk took her officious self to the task of handing over a “free” plastic bottle of water.  With her pancake makeup, scarlet lipstick and chiclet teeth, her arrogance is an amazing way to greet Hilton’s loyal customers.  Her evil twin is a waitress in the breakfast room, where they have mounds of food service food (alla Sysco) for a mere $11. per person. I complained to her about the push button coffee (it’s Italy after all) and asked her to make me a cup of proper espresso.  Then I proceeded to filch a couple of cardboard rolls and mandarin oranges for my plane ride. I placed them in a small bag.  It was a furtive dream “signora, divieto di portarevia il cibo, per ragione di sicurezza,”  “Mam. you can’t take away food from here, for reasons of security.”  STOP THIEF!  Can’t believe it.

Then, there’s PANTS ON FIRE!  I was admiring a red merino sweater with white pearl buttons in the Benetton store in the Duty Free Mall in the airport — Benetton being one of the few sort of moderately priced stores therein.  An American couple came roaring up to the clerk, holding onto sweat pants “We have to get out of our jeans, they won’t let us board the plane.”  So they raced to the dressing room, changed pants, threw down the credit card and ran off “we’re gonna miss the plane, we’re gonna miss….”  Turns out that BECAUSE THEY WERE WEARING JEANS  Alitalia wasn’t letting them board into business class. The Benetton clerk told me this “FIRE DRILL” about jeans is commonplace.  That they also have restrictions about shoes — maybe no flip flops.  I can’t find anything about these rules on the Alitalia website.

I bought the red sweater for Christmas!!! Love it!


As I’ve mentioned, I love learning Italian — it’s a BIG focus for me when I’m in residence.

And I’ve written my first story — first published here, just for you.  For those of you who read Italian, please forgive me my errors, of which there are many.  Dani, my lovely Italian teacher, helped me, but I think we didn’t catch every goof!  If you don’t read Italian, you can look at my drawings of Peonia (Peony) the hen turkey and Beffi (la Befana) the good witch who rescues Peony from BECOMING the SURE centerpiece of Thanksgiving Dinner.  Thanks for reading me.

Peonia e Beffi la Befana

 Il giorno del Ringraziamento si stava avvicinando.

Una coppia, dovendo stringere le cinture e evitare l’avido macellaio, va nel campo all allevamento di tacchini. Selezionanno una bella tachinella, con piume bianche magnifiche e un petto  grassoccio in abbondanza.

Sognando la loro cena del Ringraziamento, ricchissima con tacchino arrosto, loro mettonno la bellissima tacchinella didietro la loro Fiat Panda.  Tornanno a casa loro.

Ma, stare in macchina non piace alla tacchinella, di nome Peonia.  Molta paura.  Manca d’amiche! Comincia a piangere.  Grida, grida! Aiuto! Si  arrabbia anche il marito perche Peonia sporca tanto- con cacca e piume– la sua bella macchina.

Arrivati a casa con l’uccello furiosamente gridante, loro, vivendo al piano secondo, sono andati su. Il marito, di nome Bob,  prende una corda rossa bella e fissa Peonia alla terrazza.  Dove sono bellissime le viste di Monte Cetona, Monte Amiata e Cortona – e dove i fiori  rossi bellissimi fiorirono.

Ma la povera Peonia non smette  di gridare, piu e piu forte.  La tacchinella sa che la fine si sta avvicinando. Sa che nessun presidente Americano non va a perdonarla.  Pericolo!  Grida! Grida!  Constantemente!

Al primo piano della casa, vive un nuovonato di nome Giacomo.  Le gride lo svegliano e lo fanno molto nervoso.  Lui anche comincia a piangere.  Peonia e Giacomo urlano insieme.  Nella casa, nessun dorma.  Ma la buona Beffi la Befana sente il grande rumore.  Lei vive nella selva oscura vicina.

Arriva silenziosamente la Beffi e libera la Peonia.  Volanno insieme, tornanno nella selva e vivonno felicemente insieme per sempre.

E alla vigilia di ogni Giorno del Ringraziamento, loro volanno insieme e fanno visita a tutti i bimbi nel vicinato. Loro regalanno una carota e una zucchina, accompagnate di un rotolo di carta con il detto:  “Mangiate verdure!”

Ecco come sono diventata vegeteriana. Cosi e la morale di questa storia di Peonia e Beffi.

Carolyn McConnell

Dic.  2018

Grazie tantissimo a Daniela del Buono, la mia Maestra


Note that Peonia has beautiful purple toes, she’s just back from her pedicure.


Here is my Christmas card with my drawing of the gingko leaf from San Giorgio Island.  The calligraphy mine as well.






December 5, 2018. photos

I’m in the palazzo (palace) in Paciano on wreath-hanging day.  It’s the wedding arbor with a view over green Umbria.  The ivy creeper has turned red in December on the “palazzo” belonging to the Buitoni (pasta and perugina chocolates now owned by nestle) family.  The ladies in the photo are friends, enjoying coffee.  The dark haired lady is my Italian teacher, Dani.   On the left is Lia, the baker.  On the right is Leslie, American, long-time resident here.  “chiacchieriamo” that’s what we’re doing — gossiping, chatting, having a good old time!IMG_8109.jpgIMG_8103.jpgIMG_0754.jpgIMG_8111IMG_8115IMG_8117

December 5, 2018

Venice   Our little hotel, the Hotel Giudecca, stands beside a tiny canal bridge on the residential island of Giudecca, far away from the San Marco crowds, but just a short vaporetto (boat) ride away to all the action.  The hotel is quite correct, the neighborhood is quiet and the price was good in  mid-November — 49.00 Euro a night before breakfast (about $54.). However the wind off the Adriatic howled through the tiny back alleys and gave us a chill.  Several bars and restaurants nearby are excellent.

Our reason for the return to Giudecca/Venice was to see the 10 Vatican Chapels of the 2018 Architectural Biennial — chapels installed in a private garden on the very quiet and private island of San Giorgio — 10 places of meditation in the forest — a project of the “Holy See,” or the Pope and the Vatican.  It was the wonder child of the whole biennial and we are so glad to have taken a stroll through all ten of the chapels, designed by famous architects from around the globe.

A gingko tree was dropping its leaves.  I picked one up from the ground as a souvenir.  Inspired, I made it into an ink drawing and you can see it on our Christmas card “JOY.”

No, there wasn’t any high water.  It had receded completely.  You see waist high steel doors at doorways, ready to be put into service to keep the water out.  All around the big squares (piazza) was scaffolding to be erected in high water for pedestrian use.

The heat wasn’t working in our proper little hotel, otherwise we give it A+!

Who’s that couple walking hand in hand in the high mountain on the previous page?.  Well, it isn’t us.  I just snapped them while they walked ahead of us — their blue and red jackets perfect in the setting.  Did you think it was Bob and me?  Hah, had you fooled!

Italian language.   After 7 hours of private instruction in the last 5 weeks, my Italian has inched along.  I’ve written a story about a turkey (Peony) and a good witch (Beffi).  The latter rescues the former from a Thanksgiving dinner.  I’ll post the story and the drawings soon!  NB:  it’s in Italian!!  For kids.

Pellet Stove.. Our neighbor and fellow member of the senior citizens club does high roof work.  I am praising him to the heavens.(appropriate for high roof work)  The pellet stove is finally working.  Even after unloading a garbage bag full of birds nests straw, Giuliani and his colleague found yet another tiny nest — blocking the whole stove operation.  He has also repaired a roof leak around our TV antenna.

We are winding up our time here in Paciano — a short 5 weeks.  We’ll fly out of Rome on Friday. My next effort will be to post photos and the story about Peony. After that I’m pretty sure I won’t post again until March, when I take up residence here again. I suggest you bookmark this page and click the “follow” icon –that way you’ll get a notice by email every time I post.

Thanks so much for reading me and I wish you Merry Christmas — Buon Natale!!



December 2, 2018. Advent

The Wreath Project    This time every year a group of women in the village of Paciano get together and make wreaths.  They decorate each doorway with a beautiful wreath in the historic center of this tiny town.  Wreaths are made by hand from grape vines, cut by us locals.  Each wreath involves twisting and turning the grape vines into a circular form, tied together with wire.  Each is decorated with local greens and with recycled or “found” donated ribbons and ornaments.  I love getting together to do this project — there is a mix of local Pacianese women (Italian) along with “strsnieiri” (foreigners) such as English, American, German and Dutch, accompanied by a few tail wagging friends as everyone works together, chattering in community.  “Woe,” this year I missed the work sessions, but I’ve been around Paciano this morning photographing a few of the more fetching wreaths.  I’ll do “penance” on Monday and help finish up the last of the wreath-making job. See photos next page/day.

A Hamlet Divided. Our tiny hamlet, called “Mazzarelli,” is a subset of the bigger village mentioned above, “Paciano,” our administrative center.  I’ve just been learning that our little hamlet, here known as a “localita,” has divided loyalties.  Visualize Mazzarelli in the shape of an oval — there are about 25 homes/properties lined up along a narrow road that cuts east/west through the oval.  Those people living on the north side of the road mentally align themselves with Castiglione del Lago, the big city and market town near here.  Those living on the south side are pro Paciano.  I guess if there was a soccer game or a bike race, we’d be on the Castiglione side.  Go figure, it’s essential to note that we are ALL administered by the Pacianese mayor and police department (2 officers, one male one female) Powers that be breathe a sigh of relief when they count 1,000 residents in Paciano so that we/they can remain an official town.  If not, we’d have to merge with Panicale, and that would mean breaking down centuries old rivalries.  Why they’re glad to have us AND ED SHEERAN!!!!

Quirks and more quirks. In a few days I’ll publish my story here about Peony the turkey and Beffi, the good witch, written in Italian and illustrated by yours truly.

Watch for Advent wreath photos next and Happy Advent to you!!!

December 1, 2018. With photos of our trip two weeks ago to Brunico/Bruneck in Alto-Adige and Venice. Clockwise: Venice: Bridge of Sighs between Doges Palace and Prison. Bob and I on rooftop overlooking St. Mark’s Square (that’s the spire in the background), beating off a strong cold Adriatic wind. “Gemutlichkeit”– that’s German happiness, this time surrounding food, excellent potatoes and roasted meat in a high mountain restaurant outside Brunico. Bob and I alongside Lago di Braies, (Pragser See), the river tumbling past our hotel room in Brunico and, finally, walking in the high mountain.

November 29, 2018

Clear, cool fall day

The sun is warming us, the rain is past.  From my balcony looking to the north I can see all the way to Cortona, high up on a distant hill.  To my west I can see both Mount Cetona and Mt. Amiato: all in Tuscany.  When I can see these things I know I’m surrounded by beauty, fresh air and loveliness.  I count my blessings.

Olive oil

When we arrived here in early November, everyone was picking the last of their olives and taking them off to the mill for olive oil.  This area prides itself on its olive oil and this year had a bumper crop.  We have such a tiny garden — we have no olives — and no work!  We stopped at the village mill (frantoio) and purchased a couple of tin liters of freshly pressed oil. One tin we’ve been using, the other will go back to Kirkland with us in my suitcase.

Ah yes, the new oil, what’s so special about it???

The color is chartreuse, bright!  It’s cloudy!  It’s peppery!  It’s fabulous on salads and for dipping bread.  During the course of months it will turn to golden color, clarify and lose the zing and still be fabulous!

Giuliano, our neighbor, and roof technician came yesterday to plug up the leak around our ancient, rusty old roof antenna and to clean the chimney over the pellet stove, which, by the way, still sounds the alarm when turned on.  I must call the technician again, ugh.  My Italian’s. not that great over the phone, for starters, and I’m really bad when it comes to technical stuff, even in my own language!

Truck stop lunch today

Today we’ll meet Leslie, an American friend, for lunch at one of the local truck stops.  It’s behind a gas station. The food will be home made, it won’t break the bank and Leslie and I will likely be the only women in the room.  There will be truffles, black cabbage, grilled meats and fish and many delicacies. Taken for granted by the locals. Buon appetito!





November 27, 2018


One doesn’t have to be an American Woman in Italy to have the chimney stuffed full of straw birds nests, feathers etc.  Our pellet stove here in the tiny hamlet of Mazzarelli had sounded its alarm about a month ago. DANGER!  The repairman finally came yesterday after all these weeks.  The chimney is blocked.  It’s straw and birds nests. We are SO lucky that one of our neighbors is expert at working in high places. He kindly stopped by today to have a look at our blocked chimney and, additionally, just to add to our woe, the leak coming down through the antenna.  We live on the third floor, the attic above has a bit of water on the floor.  It’s been raining a lot.  The neighbor, Giuliano, helped us last spring stave off the pigeons, multitudes, that like to perch and poop on our kitchen windowsill.  Hopefully, he’ll resolve the leak and chimney block tomorrow, if it doesn’t rain.

Giuliano is a member of the local senior citizens club, of which we are also members.  He is one of our immediate neighbors whom I know well enough to talk to.  We see each other at the dinners sponsored by this group.  Senior citizens here are active–continuing ed. and physical ed. classes and sponsored trips around Europe.  We celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary at one of their “anniversary” dinners.

We are leaving to return to US in about 10 days.

Bye bye Marco and Christian.  Our village, Paciano, has two small bars/caffes.  The tiniest one is changing hands again.  Marco and Christian, two young guys, have called it quits.  Hard to make money and boring to stay stuck in the bar all the time.  We don’t know who will run the place, but it should open tomorrow.  We don’t know if there will be changes to the coffee, to the drinks, to the atmosphere.  We’ll go check it out.

I dream of my “expresso macchiato” when I’m in the US.

Today Bob hiked to the top of our local Mt. Pausillo (Purgatorio) during my Italian lesson with Dani.  Ironic because I’ve been studying about Inferno (Hell) and Purgatorio with Dani, reading, studying Dante.  I’m also beginning to write a story about Peonia, the hen turkey, saved from death at Thanksgiving, by the Epiphany witch.


Quirks: Aldo’s Bar (Il Gallo) in the neighboring town of Panicale is hugely popular.  If you have seen Bob and me on Househunters International, you will have seen us filmed there. Everyone loves Aldo’s, especially in summer, when one can enjoy a drink on a lovely terrace in the main square.  Aldo’s bar sold Bob on coming to move here, he liked it so much.  He plays bridge there Wednesdays with the boys.

Aldo’s son opened a restaurant across the piazza a few years ago.  Last summer he installed a platform over the cobblestones outside his restaurant, thereby increasing the space for outdoor dining and making that space level and safe.  You have never heard such howls.  How ugly!  How invasive!  What nerve!  How did he get the permits?  Blah blah — a half year later the platform is gone, victim of pressure from the Belle Arte (fine arts) committtee.  So what gives???

26 Novembre 2018

Hi all you readers.  I know you are few, but there will be more as I write more and launch this fascinating blog about my life as an American in Italy.

Question of the hour?  Will I ever be integrated into Italian life, into Italian society?  The answer is a resounding “NO!”  Perhaps if I had started this adventure in my youth, the answer would be “yes,” but I must admit that I’ll always be the “American” around here.  Exotic?  Weird?  Neighbors wonder why would we live here in this tiny hamlet???  What do we see in Mazzarelli?   Good questions!

The answers lie in the fact that I love the Italian culture, the landscape, the language, the history, the art (birthplace of the Renaissance) and, oh, I almost forgot!  The FOOD!

I’m OK with always being on the outside looking in.  Every week we meet new locals here — I will know them enough to say “Buon giorno, salve” etc. and maybe even a little better than that, but I’ll not be invited to their homes.  I’m not sure the local Umbrians (Pacianesi) here invite others into their homes.   I believe they prefer to meet in public places, the bars and caffes being their living rooms.  And I believe that in this tiny hamlet, where everyone is related, they pretty much stick to their own families. I found this to be true in France, where even tho I speak the language very well, I always felt like a tourist.  In Germany, where I lived for 7 years until quite recently, I found the same.  Things got better there and here in Italy when I began to learn the language. I’m still working on Italian, meeting for a private lesson twice a week and reading Inferno by Dante, father of Italian language.

Kaffee Klatch

Every Sunday morning, and most Tuesdays as well, Bob and I drive over to Lia and Fausto’s house in our village, Paciano. Lia, being German by origin, is a fantastic baker of breads, richer and more German in style than the white unsalted stuff loved by the locals here.  On Sunday morning we meet up with friends, we drink coffee and we eat delicious pastries and rolls.  And we “klatch” — that is, “chat.” The crowd is mostly “stranieri” (foreigners), mostly British.  Lia is happy that some Italians have started to roll in.  She too has always been an outsider, being German, and having raised 3 kids here in Paciano.  I was happy to see some of our Italian neighbors there yesterday.  Lia’s husband is Italian. They have installed a wood burning oven for baking.  Sitting around the big table in  the warm kitchen on a rainy day (yesterday) is a fine example of “gemütlichkeit.” That is a strictly German feeling, now found here in our Sunday kaffeeklatsch klatches!  WWII has been over 70 years…..

Property line dispute

Paciano is our idyllic village, resting on a hill above our hamlet, Mazzarelli, which is a subset of Paciano and its 1,000 inhabitants.  The state is Perugia, the province is Umbria, the country is Italy.  Seems the federal Italian gov’t has decided to reconfigure all the irregular and incorrect property lines in Italy.  It also seems they decided to give tons of expensive work to “notaios.”  “Notaios” are sort of like lawyers, they draw up deeds and documents having to do with property.

The mayor of Paciano has come to us with a request for 1500. Euro, to be paid to a “notaio” to reconfigure our property line, which is off by about 18.”  Our neighbors, who have lived in this building their whole lives, are also getting drawn into this dispute for more money than us, bless their hearts.  We all met with the mayor last week and perhaps we’ve reached an accord.  But since all 25 property holders in our tiny hamlet must also come to an agreement to pay for their reconfigurations, we think we are waiting for Godot.   Our neighbors, Franco and Astelio (who grew up in this very apartment we live in)  can be seen outside with a long measuring tape.





November 11, 2018.Bye bye and buon viaggio!

DOLOMITES/VENICE Tomorrow morning at 9 am we’ll board the train at nearby Chiusi for a 6 hour journey with 3 changes and 4 trains:  final destination is Brunico/Bruneck, in the Dolomites, aka the Italian Alps.  Loving the mountains we just wish to explore this area in the Italian Alps — midseason between summer hiking/biking and winter skiing.  I’m taking along my Nordic Walking Sticks for a bit of exercise.  75% of the people in Brunico, Italy speak German, so it’ll be nice to revisit German culture, having lived there recently for 7 years.  I’ll try to post pix when I return, but otherwise I must take a pause from this blog.  On the way back here via train to Mazzarelli we’ll stop for 4 nights in Venice in a back neighborhood on an island called Giudecca.  Of course we’ll check ahead to see if there’s acqua Alta, high water — if so, we’ll cancel.

Coffee Klatch!  Today was our Sunday coffee morning at Lia’s.  She makes fabulous breads in a wood-fired oven in her home in our village.  Many of us meet for coffee and chat on Sunday mornings.  Photos to be inserted later.

Macelleria. Butcher shop — here is where I went today to order a turkey for Thanksgiving.  I expect there will be 8 of us at Alex’s house, I’ll bring the cooked turkey and pecan pie.  Half of the people at the table will be Americans.  I love my butcher shop/deli for all the things they have besides meats.  Lots of prepared foods. Today I bought homemade pici pasta (our local pasta) and ragu and a small pork roast, all tucked into the freezer for our return from the Dolomites.

Baby Giacomo lives downstairs from us.  He’s 3 months old, and, boy is he ever cute.I took him small gifts yesterday — apparently taking baby gifts isn’t done here — maybe they feel obligated to bring a gift in return, in our case, surely not for a baby.  Giacomo’s daddy pointed out to me that Giacomo is the BOSS!  some kind of understatement.  We can hear him through the floor, but it’s very light.

Lunch today with friends at our local restaurant — Sunday lunch.  Bob had cacio e Pepe and I had sautéed thin sliced chicken breast with lemon and cooked fresh greens from the restaurant’s garden.  Nice to visit with friends.  The owners are friendly to us, but, alas, they have their place up for sale.  We had our 70th birthday party there.  And did I forget to mention the lava cake for dessert?

Lakefront walk. Just like in Kirkland, Washington, we live near a beautiful lake, Trasimeno.  Normally we take walks along it, but laziness set in today.  We drove along it, lots of Italian families out for a walk on a beautiful crisp fall Sunday.

fall colors.  Not like in Colorado orWashington, but our linden tree’s leaves are changing to colors iike those of a tortoise shell cat.  The local vineyards have stripes of color, with rows ranging from deep burgundy to pumpkin orange, as their leaves change and depending on the variety.

OLIVES are being picked around the neighborhood.  Friends and neighbors come around to help. We don’t have any, thank God! We’ve been to the mill to pick up a couple of liters of the fresh green stuff, cloudy looking, peppery tasting and chartreuse in color.  In a few months the cloudiness, pepperiness and chartreuse color go away, to make a silky product.  But we love this new oil!  Perfect on salads and on bread.  Raising olives and harvesting them for oil is a huge part of the local culture here.

COBALT SKY OLYMPUS is my granddaughter’s name for me.  It has something to do with fairies.  I believe in fairies.  My granddaughter gave herself the name EMERALD RAIN SILVERMANE.

On that note, this fairy is leaving, see you after Venice, or maybe during if I can do this on my IPAD.     Ciao!