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– 137 – hydrangea wreath

Monica Dunkley

September 5, 2017

I love wreaths on doors. I love how they make doors more friendly, how they mark the change of the seasons or express the personality of the owners or simply make things prettier.

Yesterday, because it’s September and September is the month of new beginnings (January, schmanuary) and because we’ve been away so much this summer that the house has been a little ignored, I decided it was time to rectify this and give a little of tlc to this gorgeous pile of brick and mortar we call home.

I popped to my mum’s future garden (they’re moving to England, from Italy in a few months) and raided the hydrangea bush.

Don’t you love hydrangeas?

Then I simply cut the stems quite short, about two inches long, and stuck them into a florist sponge wreath I’ve had in the cupboard since last Christmas (don’t ask).

As a matter of fact the whole day began with me tidying up the pantry cupboards and accidentally founding it … that was my goal for yesterday, sorting out the messy pantry… easily distracted? Moi?

Anyway, you keep going round and round, sticking hydrangea heads into the wreath till you’re done. It’s that easy. Hardly worth talking about except I had so much fun I had to share.

In other news whilst I was ‘playing’ No 2 child decided to iron his own t-shirt ahead of a party in the afternoon, something I consider a triumph of excellent parenting on my behalf rather than a blatant sign of teenage neglect as he claimed. Kids, what do they know, right? (Also, he had decided to re-wash his favourite ‘reverse weave’ (again, don’t ask…) sweatshirt because I had dared using fabric softener and made it all soft…. what a horrible mother I am, obvs. Soft clothes, terrible things apparently. Who knew.

Sigh.

Let’s look at the wreath then, and ignore the weirdness I’m surrounded by.

For your information the pantry is still a mess.

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– 136 – poetry Monday

Monica Dunkley

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September 4, 2017

Lines written in the days of growing darkness (by Mary Oliver)

Every year we have been
witness to it: how the
world descends
into a rich mash, in order that
it may resume.
And therefore
who would cry out

to the petals on the ground
to stay,
knowing, as we must,
how the vivacity of what was is married

to the vitality of what will be?
I don’t say
it’s easy, but
what else will do

if the love one claims to have for the world
be true?
So let us go on

though the sun be swinging east,
and the ponds be cold and black,
and the sweets of the year be doomed.

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– 135 – holiday reading

Monica Dunkley

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September 1, 2017

Amongst all the wedding preparations, the ridiculous and unnecessary amount of food, the heat and the sock knitting (more about that at a later stage) I did manage to get my reading mojo back and read three really good books.

This first one totally floored me.

Mae gets her dream job at ‘The Circle, a hugely powerful internet company which links users’ personal emails, social media, banking, and purchasing with their universal operating system, resulting in one online identity and a new age of civility and transparency. … What begins as the captivating story of one woman’s ambition and idealism soon becomes a heart-racing novel of suspense, raising questions about memory, history, privacy, democracy, and the limits of human knowledge. (from Good Reads)

Oh my. I couldn’t put it down … the irony of talking about this on social media is not lost on me but… you have to read it… at every step you’ll tell yourself… yes, this makes sense, I understand this could be good.. and then suddenly you realise how scary it all is, how possible it would be for this to happen and it’s terrifying. Terrifying! It’s a utopia turned dystopia in a big way. It’s the end for the world as we know it. It so could be!

I’d make it compulsory in every secondary school.

(On the down side I don’t think it’s as well written as ‘A heartbreaking work of staggering genius’… there are some, mercifully short, dogdy love scenes for example that are very non-believable… but maybe it’s just me.)

Next up is my yearly summer date with the Commissario Montalbano and the going ons in his fictional Sicilian village of Vigata. I’ve read all of them and they’re the perfect summer read. (There are English translations of the novels, worth checking them out)

And last but not least…

I liked the book. Didn’t ‘love’ it. Liked it. I loved the metaphor of the underground railway as a real, physical entity/journey whatever you want to call it. I thought that it was very clever how Cora’s escape takes us on that journey through various US states and different situtations/experience – all be it all pretty horrific. What I wasn’t too sure about was the language. It didn’t draw me in. I didn’t ‘feel’ it. I found it all in all quite cold almost. I felt I was left on the outside looking in… rather than fully participating most of the time. (Not always). I wanted the characters Cora, Caesar to be talking to me more, for me to get to know them more. I mean Caesar just vanishes from the story…

Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good book, definitively worth reading, but maybe I’ve been spoilt by Toni Morrison who makes me cry and turns me inside out ever single time.

What about you my friends? any good books this summer?

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– 134 – postcards from Tuscany

Monica Dunkley

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August 31, 2017

I’m writing this wearing a huge wool cardigan and looking at the grey sky through the kitchen window. We arrived back home yesterday afternoon… under the rain… and whilst for a split second the fresh air was welcome after the torrid heat of Italy, the novelty factor soon wore off.

We were all kind of miserable.

As an antidote to coming down to earth with a soggy bump I’ll tell you about the gorgeous last afternoon we spent with my parents. After mum’s legendary spaghetti Carbonara (she is an expert… don’t even dare mentioning peas, mushrooms or cream to her, you won’t survive the lecture), we hopped in the car and drove over the region’s border into Umbria to the beautiful medieval town of Bevagna, deep in wine country.

Built on the site of an Etruscan settlement in 80/90BC it then became a Roman village called Mevagna but not much is left of this period. It is now a beautiful medieval town worth meandering about.

Of course there are plenty of churches too!

In piazza Silvestri two face each other:

don’t ask what Mr M was doing there a part from blocking the light… sigh…

The view over the old walls is very pretty too.

But you know what… walking around in 90F heat makes you very thirsty and the obvious thing to do when in wine country… is wine tasting, right?

We headed out of the town to one of the many vineyards: Tenuta Castelbuono, intrigued by the main building designed by the Italian sculptor Arnaldo Pomodoro.

It’s called the ‘Carapace’, which is the name of the turtle shell in Italian, you can see why:

We very merrily tasted delicious wines (Ziggurat and Carapace) were my favourites and learnt all about grapes and ageing process… don’t remember much… too much wine you see…

And then home…

A perfect end to a lovely holiday.

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– 133 – a Tuscan wedding

Monica Dunkley

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August 30, 2017

So… apologies for not being very present around here of late… but we had a wedding! My little sister got married on a very hot Tuscan day and it was fabulous.

I should have taken more photos… but I just enjoyed the day and only remembered here and there.

The ceremony took place at this little remote chapel called ‘Eremo di Santa Maria delle Grazie’. (Near Badia Tedalda, AR)

the local hairdresser decorated the church, (and my sister….

… and she looked amazing.)

In this photo the bride and groom are getting showered in rice for good luck.

And here she’s standing next to our baby brother, who also celebrated the service. (He’s a Franciscan monk/priest which is totally ironic because I remember very well what a naughty child he was! Life is funny like that).

The reception took place in the grounds of one of mum and dad’s neighbours.

… and mum made the favours. Small sachets of sugared almonds with a little rosary made by the people in my brother’s mission in South Sudan.

We ate so much it was ridiculous (Italian weddings are a lot about the food) and the only picture I got it’s this one.

OMG…

The day just flew by… and no the bride didn’t end up in the pool… just the feet…

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– 132 – postcards from Tuscany

Monica Dunkley

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August 24, 2017

This morning I practiced one of my favourite things… the art of getting lost…

I dropped my brother off to the train station and by 7.30am I was wondering the still empty streets of Arezzo in complete solitude, I had a cappuccino (no chocolate powder on top, don’t be a tourist!) watching pigeons go their pigeon way, I eavesdropped locals discussing the freshly started football league whilst drinking espresso propped up at the bar counter, I walked on deserted pavements, I popped into every church that was open, I looked at paintings, read about history, touched ancient walls, explored. I watched the city waking up.

Two hours.

It was amazing.

Don’t get me wrong, I love travelling with Mr M and the boys, but it is a totally different feeling to being alone with one’s thoughts, wondering and wandering, without a particular destination… just a few hours to stroll aimlessly in whichever direction I wanted.

Doesn’t it sound wonderful?

The following is only a taster of what I saw.

The Church of Mercy. (If you’ve ever been to Italy you know that trying to sightseeing without seeing any churches is a futile exercise. Just give in and enjoy the varied plenitude of styles and sizes)

Baroque style, although the first ‘version’ was built in 1348 (in England it was the time of the Black Death… I only know this because of my excellent revision skills when helping No 3 in his end of year exams.)

Next to the church a bit of street art:

which was next to this:

and then only down the road we were back to old things… but not as old as the bubonic plague.

On the same road another church, Chiesa della SS Annunziata (1490, built after the Madonna statue was seen crying real tears)

I loved the different flags on the building highlighting the different quarters of the city.

Badia delle SS Flora and Lucilla, was closed. I was totally intrigued by the random facade though. It’s like they got the door wrong and then started again or something…

Chiesa di San Francesco, which contains the masterpiece of by Piero della Francesca.

A lot of the frescos have been lost but what’s there is worth a visit. It must have been an incredible sight at the time.

And then more walking here and there. All the way to the Duomo.

Of course… all this was fuelled by delicious cappuccinos… no chocolate of course… I’m not a tourist.

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– 131 – postcards from Tuscany

Monica Dunkley

3 comments

August 21, 2017

Sunday’s ritual.

Drive down to the nearest village, Pieve Santo Stefano, built around a very small river Tiber, the one that flows through Rome. It’s been an incredibly dry summer so the water level here is super low.

Sunday Mass.

which contains one of the famous ceramic works of Giovanni della Robbia

then a trip to the local bar , ‘Bar Sport’ (classic name, there must be thousands all over the country with this name), across the square from the church. Nowhere else the sacred and the profane are as intertwined as in Italy

for a classic aperitif. Campari for me and dad… Crodino bianco for mum and brother.

I am definitively ‘home’.

Cheers.

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– 130 – postcards from Tuscany

Monica Dunkley

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August 20, 2017

We’re on the move again.

I know, I know…

To be fair I love it. I get itchy feet a lot… living out of a suitcase does not bother me in the least.

Anyway, we’ve come for the annual visit yes, but my sister is getting married here next week and my parents will be moving to England in the late Autumn so this is kind of a last hurrah.

Be prepared for random photos this week.

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– 129 – poetry Thursday

Monica Dunkley

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August 17, 2017

I’m reading ‘Underground Railway’ by Colston Whitehead, which is remarkable and chilling, frankly, especially in light of recent events…

…will the world ever learn?

Caged birds by Maya Angelou

A free bird leaps

on the back of the wind

and floats downstream

till the current ends

and dips his wing

in the orange sun rays

and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks

down his narrow cage

can seldom see through

his bars of rage

his wings are clipped and

his feet are tied

so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings

with a fearful trill

of things unknown

but longed for still

and his tune is heard

on the distant hill

for the caged bird

sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze

and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees

and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn

and he names the sky his own

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams

his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream

his wings are clipped and his feet are tied

so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings

with a fearful trill

of things unknown

but longed for still

and his tune is heard

on the distant hill

for the caged bird

sings of freedom.

– 128 – quilting mojo

Monica Dunkley

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August 16, 2017

Visiting the Festival of Quilts last week has really galvanised the quilting mojo that, let’s be honest, had kind of gone into hibernation mode. I know I moaned about the set up of the festival, but the quilts were great, and I left very inspired, full of renewed enthusiasm and with a big pile of fabric too.

… yeah… quite bright… in my defence there is a small bunch of neutral/low volume fabric still in the drier … but the gist is this: colour. I felt very inspired by colour (AND by quilting styles too but to a minor extent)…

My overwhelming feeling was of a riot of colours.

This whole cloth quilt… seriously… doesn’t make you want to grab a huge brush and paint the first sheet you come across?

And what about this ‘graffiti’ quilt… regardless of the message… isn’t it genius?

This one too was one of my favourite… so simple and yet so effective/contemporary/striking… and the quilting… fabulous.

(quilt by Jenny Haynes)

So all this week I’ve been thinking about colour. And shapes. And my mind is buzzing because there are so many quilts fighting to get out and I have so many things I need to do first… like buying school uniform and attaching gazillions labels, and feeding teenagers that appear from nowhere and stay over for days.. and and.. my sister is getting married in about then days… and I haven’t packed

… and then something won through the messy battles of in my mind… and I found myself furiously making something.

This…

What?? I guess ‘black is the sum of all colours right?…

Sigh.

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