La bellezza della Puglia

It's nice to be home but Italy was far prettier (at least to me).

Re-entry on a Rainy Day

 

Sometimes it's hard to push away the melancholy that arises after the fact. The urgency to get out, the excitement of new places, the anxiety of return, the relief of one's familiar surroundings, and then the pangs of wishing for a life when the known is yet to be discovered and possibility hovers deliciously in the future.

We have lived in Sleepy Hollow for twenty years- many moons in this quaint corner of the world. Taking stock and seeking gratitude is complicated by desires and yearnings that exceed the here and now. Forward momentum stirs goals anew in the quest for change.

Missing Otranto....

...but glad to be home. Like many travelers who experience a kind of transition hell when moving via buses, trains and planes with more stuff than is easily manageable, I was very happy to arrive back in the U.S. of A. and see the familiar sight of my husband and our car when I emerged weary and intact from the terminal at Newark yesterday. Sleeping in my own bed, I tossed with restless dreams of Italy, the sound of motorinos and the music made by the groups of people laughing and chatting in Italian strolling the narrow streets at night. Too many photos to edit and figure out what exactly I managed to capture in my camera- but a few to share and hope you like!

On the Road (Italian Style)

A plan gelled to head out in the rental car, so off we went to visit a rustic but upscale hotel, a smaller
b&b where the proprietress and friend maintained a quirky farm with chickens, 14 dogs and fruit trees including delicious mulberries that melted in your mouth when popped fresh off their stems. It seemed like a good idea to venture further to Gallipoli where we wandered another ancient city filled with chic tourists and patient locals enduring the summer swarm that insured their livelihood year round.

It's hard to know when to stop photographing. Every vista is new. I am enthralled by the light, my surroundings, the people and the way they move about their familiar routines. Novelty brings its own infusion of delight and I am grateful for the chance to be here.

Otranto

My good friend Jo Ann invited me to visit her in this small town situated on the Adriatic Sea in  Italy and given my willingness to embrace possibility I said yes to her generous offer. Many hours of travel later including an airline mishap that created 9 hours of delay, a ride from Rome to this most southern spot in Italy and I am slowly getting my footing. The push to leave, the adrenalin of travel and swift transitions have left me feeling spent and it's lovely to succumb to doing nothing in Jo Ann's temporary digs in this ancient city. And if nothing else, there is always the view out the window to remind me how vast and varied is this planet of ours. Sometimes it's good to leave home to remember what is important, lovely and true.

On My Way

                                                 
It's Father's Day and I am heading off on a solo adventure later today- so feeling way more than my usual amount of anxiety. The roses are putting out their beautiful displays which undoubtably be in a very different condition upon my return. File this under the quest for immortality and the desire to keep the home fires burning.

Things that go thump in the night

We returned home after swimming the other night to find emergency personnel milling in front of our house. A major branch from the oak tree across the road split and fell, exploding all over our yard. The night buzzed with the sounds of chain saws and vehicles pushing the branches off the road. Then Con Ed appeared to re-connect our electricity. By midnight, we had power, but no Verizon, no phone or internet. Small concerns.

In the morning, our DPW arrived in full complement with saws, wood chipper, and a forklift. The four guys cleared the mess and restored order. It was sad to see the damage done to the property, trees stripped of branches and mature plantings smashed and reduced by the impact. But no one was hurt when the limb came down. Something else to fix and restore in Sleepy Hollow.

Small Wonders

The allure of flowers captivates me easily. Their distinct shapes so artfully wrought with their fleeting beauty- who wouldn't be awestruck at certain times of day when the sun angles in the sky and a glow infuses their petals. All my years of city living makes me appreciate nature's bounty and life in Sleepy Hollow is rich in opportunity for those inclined to pay attention.

Around here

The garden is a continual source of surprise and renewal...

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....and affords images that I am happy to share.

Crumbs

As it stands, my marriage is wobbling and things are hard.  I am in the throes of envisioning different endings, and given my tendency for pessimism, most of them are not, shall we say, particularly rosy.
I tiptoe around my husband, there are no signs of affection but a kind of clinical acceptance of my existence that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. It's been a long time coming, for years I have known that something wasn't right- that the light in his eyes lit up for the dog but dimmed for me. I have seen this and I have accepted it because after all, I must fall short in so many ways.

It's tragic when the seeds of childhood dysfunction bloom ardently in your adult life, unexpected and so hurtful that at times it's hard to breathe. You try to take the slights in stride. The lack of affection- well- I did too many things that brought his disfavor, that I am not worthy of forgiveness. I grew up in a large family where parental neglect loomed large and I struggled with why my parents did not protect me. Of course in a child's mind- you must not have enough value intrinsically to be worth protecting- you must be less than everyone else to justify why you are left abandoned and afraid time and again to older siblings who don't understand themselves what they are doing.

Motherhood brought the chance to heal some wounds. I did not neglect my children. I could not let history repeat itself and it didn't. They seem sounder to me than I ever was and if I have left them down through my own stupidity or ignorance, I ask them to forgive me. They are the brightest lights in the constellation of my life and I am so grateful for the chance life afforded me to be their mother.

I'm sure my spouse will be fine. The men usually are. I know he will not look back. It will be my fault and he will be the wounded other- who wasn't prepared for someone so sensitive. "Why do you care?" "Why do I have to tell you how I feel?" And so it goes. I try to take up less space. I stop sharing anything internal- better to discuss real estate, the condition of the roads, the things that are so wrong, of course committed by other people.

This is not a lighthearted post. This is not a narrative spun of highlights and captured moments. This is the heart of the heart of the matter that is my life. It's what happens next where my future happiness lies.
That's all I can hope for.