Nature isn’t a Minimalist

Ordinary living may seem dull for some in a world full of extremes, but I find nothing bland about moderation; once one cultivates a deep intimacy with their observations of the extrinsic world, life changes. The many details that take up the flow of our day can be divided. The morning coffee, evening tea, and dinner take part of our sense of stability that some become taken for granted. An apple can be eaten but also be a subject of study. A word can be given to another but take on the form of both love and hate. It has, like everything, the possibility to exceed its intention. When a man notices the true colors hidden behind the red of his lover’s dress, life can become a fable. The artist who paints and forgets to create a harmonious flow throughout his day has forgotten parts of his talent.

“Love is simply the name for the desire and pursuit of the whole.”

― Plato

Notions on love.

All is useless without the complete comprehension of love. Despite the conflicts that may stir, its unseen space lies within the action. Empathy depletes itself within all who are intemperate. A man becomes debilitated if he subjects himself to the state of being, greed. The sensible lens of love is perceived in a distinct manner, unique to one’s cognizance. One must not proceed far in ruminations of its definition. It may become divided, lost within bitter judgments that can limit the courageous inclinations that lie hidden. In an individual whose action thrives to the attainment of idealism, he must allow himself to doubt. The Romantics, the individuals who live poetry through the story that they call their lives, delve through tides of emotions. They find that their lust can be deceiving. Heartaches and despair are the emotions that tinge and confuse the natural essence that pertains to the unifying qualities of love. Throughout history, due to sophistication, philosophers gave many names to contextualize the various degrees of this sense: Eros for the mighty passionate, Philia for friendships, and Pragma for the elders. These are three of just a few definitions of the many embodiments that manifest through the mean of expression called man.

The Symposium of Plato, a well-known ancient work of Greek philosophy, was one of the first texts to who had me start delving into the notions of love. The Symposium is taught in schools to many. It has always been a staple of the classical literature of the Western tradition. Too rebellious for a proper education, I encountered the book copy at an older age by chance in an Italian caffè letterario. The dialogue of the text was held in a Symposium, a buffet that was part of the ancient Greeks and Romans’ customs. United together to celebrate conversations and debates. Music, games, and discussions accompanied this form of gathering. The type of exchange that was carried out throughout this text was quite profound. Plato in the Symposium has Socrates proclaim that Eros assists in one’s essence in the recollection of the conscious awareness of beauty. Both philosophers and lovers were stated to be seekers of truth. Their search was that carried onwards due to desire. One’s desire is an extent of his own perceived idea of good.

“According to Diotima, Love is not a god at all, but is rather a spirit that mediates between people and the objects of their desire. Love is neither wise nor beautiful, but is rather the desire for wisdom and beauty.”

― Plato, The Symposium

01.fvv freeverse

The stride of tides is that of the pace of mine,
between thoughts we seep, far past barriers deep.
A ride upon tides belongs to the gait of rhyme;
on feathered horses, they seem to be,

on and upon the wind’s milk stream .

-Rome 2020

The Appian Way: A Place for Ponders

Situated on Rome’s meridional sector, the entrance of the Appia Antica initiates a path whose age dates far back to Avanti Cristo. The Baths of Caracalla (211-217 AD) is the start of the 3,500 acres of land that spread out along the Roman countryside; its beauty frames the Appian Way with scenery that harmoniously aligns itself to every season. Yellow rocket flowers and the scent of wild mint are a couple of elements found between many ancient ruins’ cracks. Lavic stone was the material used for the road’s paved foundation, clearly depicted by the architect Giovanni Battista Piranesi (1720-1778), who had portrayed the Appia Antica in many of his etchings. The Met Museum’s acquaforte ‘View of the Stone Pavement of the Appian Way’ (1756) is a perfect example of what is still found today. To guarantee the safety of wanderers, the stone, similar to puddles, reflects the moon’s light even on the darkest of nights. 

Considered to be the Regina viarum, the queen of roads, the Appian Way connected Rome to Brindisi. The primary function was to create a smooth connection for military troops from ancient Rome to the south. Today herds of goats gaze throughout the many open fields of the Appia. At the site of Villa dei Quintili, they roam in a peaceful setting untouched by the horrors of Emperor Commodo’s unjust actions that had taken place in 151 AD. The presence of farm animals blends like a brushstroke in what seems like a painted panorama made up of olive trees and pines. Not too far, there is a family of fortunate cats that reside amongst the ruins of another archeological gem, Capo Di Bove. Its location is strictly at Via Di Appia Antica 222. A feisty cat family spends their days asleep while feasting on food the landmark’s caretakers bring. Capo di Bove belonged to a Greek politician, philosopher Erode Attico. The Roman bath and villa are known for their unique mosaics. Greek inscriptions dedicated to Erode’s wife Appia Annia Regilia make the place quite an intrigue. I pass by to visit and sit to admire the garden accessible to all visitors from time to time. The sun can’t help but shine so well in this corner of the world. 

The Authenticity of an Aura

The camera introduces us to unconscious optics as does psychoanalysis to unconscious impulses. – Walter Benjamin

Due to the details of a scene, form  reveals itself in a manner that is unique to the occasion. A flower in a vase takes part of its destined backdrop, while its existence undergoes the process of decay. There is an ongoing variant of its form that proceeds  in one series of metamorphoses. Subtle to the eye, the object in question may seem silent. Its message may vary, due to the projection of ourselves upon the petals. The abstract “aura” discussed by Benjamin pertains to an individual work of art, in the same way, an object belongs to a moment. The duplication of imagery due to its absence of space and time loses the “aura” that is authentic to the object’s direct interaction with the environment. Mechanical reproduction dulls down aesthetics, which is so dear to the eyes.

In a book of essays, entitled “The Work of Art in The Age of Mechanical Reproduction” the author Walter Benjamin, a prominent mind of the early 21st century, highlighted various psychological processes that lie behind camera and film. Each means of artistical expression had its own debate full of philosophical objectivities and schools of thought. 

First published in the 1930s, the thoughts are still visible, and unacknowledged by most in our contemporary age.

“The film is the first art form capable of demonstrating how matter plays tricks on man.”
― Walter Benjamin

Stendhal and Wallflowers

The Stendhal Syndrome is characterized by a series of symptoms like dizziness, fainting, increased heartbeat, and confusion after the exposure to a beautiful stimulus. 

The scene had taken place within one of the numerous rooms that resides within the Roman palazzo of Doria Pamphilj, a unique palace situated on Via del Corso. Now just a mere smeared memory, the atmosphere of that afternoon has been altered due to the fleeting nature of this memoir. My vision had a dusty hue. The fragmented air was contained between emerald walls. Surrounded by the many curious visitors, a collection of paintings hanged. They were similar to wallflowers on sturdy stems. Un-aware of their might the paintings stood before us quite timidly. It was an encounter with time. Filled full of details of uncharted territory, I just like any young woman could not help but be carried away by imagination. The past was there, various strokes of colors blended at the pace of a wandering gaze. The efforts of many artists called upon the remembrance of their vision. Standing still, my emotions were tested. Similar to a woman who had been struck by love at first sight. My heart raced as centuries revealed time most overwhelmingly.


The symptoms were psychosomatic, and my nerves felt weak.

I was in Turin the first time I found the book “De L’Amour”. It was a dirty copy that was quite aged. Enticed by the title in French, it did not cost much so I was fortunate to find a bargain. Stendhal’s novel took me back, where the ways of men were almost courtly and at the time also oddly extravagant. The Crystallization of Love was a metaphor that was portrayed as a transformative trip. It was a trip from the city of Bologna to Rome. Many were the cases used to describe what were Stendhal’s perceived states of falling love. It seems to be a slow process that comes from admiration. The admiration of one’s qualities then become acknowledged. That sense of awareness either in better or in worse becomes hope. A hope, that is similar to the need for understanding oneself in his vision of the “future”. Will there be many in our day in age that will have the chance to feel this hope? It is so difficult to transcend all depths to climb heights for another.

Marie-Henri Beyle was known as Stendhal. He was a French author passionate about Italy. Throughout the 1800s he trod across the country of Italy, leaving testimony of his adventures in various books; “De L’amour“, “Naples and Florence: A Journey from Milan to Reggio“, and so on. The Stendhal Syndrome was coined thanks to the author’s visit to the Basilica of the Holy Cross in the city of Florence. He stated “I reached the point where one encounters celestial sensations.” in regards to the emotional upheaval he was subjected to. Who could blame him? Any healthy man would have done the same.

The first qualification for a historian is to have no ability to invent. – Stendhal

The Principle of Blue.


On contrary to reason and the limits of an individual’s understanding there is no frame of eyes immune to the brilliance that pertains to nature’s wholesome experience. The sky’s forever presence guides our vision. Despite the hour’s filter, his vest is consistently blue. Similar to the prince of every tale, the wild blue yonder is a mirrored attempt of expression. Even the most distracted fellow can not resist peace. The call of nature goes beyond the irritations of mere limbic strife. To lay on a bed of grass and to bathe between each ray is part of the pleasures of any artist’s canvas. Letting go is one of the strengths of natural-born wanderers. No outfit, cunning vice, and false comforts can distract Him. She wants to be free. Beauty is an inspiration for a harmonious interaction. Virtues bring upon ideals of the deepest. Truth is everything.

A Fact: The complimentary color of blue is orange.


Seagulls have wings.

Jonathan Livingston Seagull

“Like everything else, Fletcher. Practice.”
― Richard Bach

 A text that has the ability to solicit a gentle awareness of  soft ponderings is the tender short story Jonathan Livingston Seagull written by the American author Richard Bach. The fable, a modest account of a rebellious Seagull named Jonathan, starts at the pace of high speed winds. Allowing the readers instantly to dive into the courageous flights of a self-driven bird. The brief book, developed through the author’s own personal passions and his own sense of inner philosophy. Jonathan the seagull has the inclination of being not quite similar to the rest of the flock. His diverse way of being leads him to exile. He passes a period of life solo, not one bit distracted by himself. Very determined to test his limits to get his message across. We can find that the book’s message was in perfect union with the general utopic ideal shared within the counter-cultures of the time. The fable’s first release was in 1972. Richard Bach’s describes vast sceneries allowing the imagery of a Seagull to guide his vision beyond his limits. The childish behavior of the demanding seagull in pursuit to find his place is at times naively arrogant towards the natural inclination of his own species. Yet, through the means of discovery, he follows  unconditional love reminding us that everyone has the right to strive beyond one’s personal precieved barriers at their own extent. The tale seems to boast the need to break the rules, and this can bring up more reasons to think depending what direction of the eytmology of the word one partakes. I can not help add that the sense of our limits is a matter of truthful dialoge, and understanding.

Richard David Bach (June 23, 1936), a popular author of the 1970’s, had a knack  for aviation. He  served in The United States Navy Reserve and the New Jersey Air National Guard. A soundtrack for the film Jonathan Livington Seagull was produced by Neil Diamond.  The same film was adapted from the above tale.


“We are all special cases.”
— Albert Camus

There are books that are similar to a bouquet of flowers. When a person holds one within his or her hands, it is not a suprise to feel uplifted by the budding of each page. Like a moderate bloom, whose core is able to touch one of the many significant emotions that pertain to human existence, I adore strolling down the street and recieving the praise from the bystanders that see me with whatever novel is in my hand. To walk while reading brings me much sympathy, especially from elderly women who stop and who pay compliments to me from time to time. They don’t suspect that this odd habit of mine (that started  four years ago) was once a coping skill. Now the case is much different; to read slowly while walking is my way of cultivating peace.

Flour and Water.

An attempt at making bread.

Eat healthy.


Love a lot.

Everyone starts the New Year with their own sense of mission.

Mine? I want to start making my own bread.

My first attempt: rye flatbread.

Flour, and water are the essentials needed along one’s personal choice of spices. Measure, knead, roll-out, and then cook.  Add lots of colors by choping up a lot of vegetables.

Make your own bread to get a true sense of luxury.

2019 will be fantastic everyone!

To Mimic: We need seeds and bees.

Luscious dark greens flushed by the decay of russet reds, the season was the scene in which life was the center. The terrain, abundant, preceded at a pace that laid. Time hinted, autumn leaves were soon to be done as they proceeded onward to their homage. Unlike the timid ways of night’s falling stars. They knew, a blanket was needed for the dampened ground whose moist heat concerned a body. A gardener who sat for many reasons, had wished for the presence of the falling foilage for countless seasons. His vision blurred, thick like a faded film the clear aura blessed. It was clear that the golden blanket upon the ground resembled fleece. They felt naive. The florid essence, and winter’s musk had intoxicated reason. For he began to wander, and to ponder about seeds,  bees, and his daily cup of tea. Deep as dusk, hours ticked tween the winter’s petals that blew. The fleece, now bright as snow, with little haste concieved crystalline dew. The flakes mimicked foilage. Droplets of night, whose light took flight. A future Spring is said to renew. Lucious are the dark greens flushed once by rays, that is now is a pale, winter, blanket’s bare hue.

FYI: I went through more than a month worth of writer's block.

The Justice of Aphrodite: from the depths she rose.


I have been to many places in the past couple of weeks. Each locale with their own set of manners, and individual characteristics. I had found myself being touched by the esthetics of ageless history, and my senses uplifted by the natural hues of the various regions of Italy. Anagni, Gaeta, Sperlonga, Rome are some of the locales along with many others that had been part of my journey.

A Quest for Beauty: A Ponder on Hillman’s Afrodite near the delicate tides of Gaeta.

“.. beauty works as a calling to better things, pulling the heart to love, to the mind to imagine more vividly. Moreover, morality without beauty stifles both heart and mind. Boring. Dull.”

– James Hillman

The pink book was appealing. An imagery of The Pearls of Aphrodite  was chosen to be on the front cover. The painting, an exquisite example of Neoclassicism was the creation of Herbet Draper from the Victorian era. The cover so elegant to the eye, was a delight to behold. In the same way a child would test a set of newly bought markers. I kept the book in my hands as I would enjoy observing the contrasting colors of Gaeta’s blue sea, paired up to the book’s bright femmine coloration. I walked and read. Aphrodite being either of  Kythera, or Paphos is an interesting debate. The greek goddess of love has various tales of the origins of her birth. For Homer she is Cypris, for Hesiod (the Greek poet) the goddess was born through the castration of Ouranos, to then rise from foam. Wherever the place might have been is a matter of the discussion, and study. Within Aphrodite’s Justice instead the philospher James Hillman decided to take a closer look of the psychological aspects of Aphrodite. Combining the behavioral study of psychology to the realms of spirit.

What is considered to be sacred for one may be considered an obscure cause of pain, and lust to the other. The perspective, a collection of internal experiences and external conditioning is a mean of measurement bound to be diverse in each of us. Hillman hints there was a reasoning pertaining to the past Christianised philosphers’ opinions, whose ideas separated justice from beauty, contradicting their very beliefs. An interesting account of Psyche, and Eros was written within the essay. The two being a combining representation of passionate desire, the psychologist attempts to help the reader understand the trials of the justice in regards to the goddess. The goddess of the poets, artists, and for he who search for harmony within the forms is bound to change us as we search for a sense of wonder. The higher love associated to Aphrodite Urania, that is of harmony with the heavens was not suprisingly developed slowly, throughout the course of ages. The question of beauty working like a dialouge between the subjective, and  the objective. Beauty is also not limited to what Hillman calls “easy prettiness”, but takes part of the full range of emotions of vast lively confusion that is felt when we are in the prescence of it. This reminds me also of Walter Benjamin’s concept of aura.

“Psyche succeds by virtue of her morality. She is vulnerable; influences reach into her, confuse her, and are assimilated.” – James Hillman

James Hillman (April 12, 1926 – October 27, 2011) from Atlantic City, New Jersey was an American psychologist who created an Archetypal form of Psychoanalysis that derived from Carl Jung’s analytical form of psychology. The essay La Giustizia Di Afrodite, published by Edizioni La Conchiglia (an pubblisher located in Capri, Italy.) was translated thanks to Silvia Ronchey an expert on Byzantine History that teaches in the University of Siena.

“As you set out for Ithaka
hope your road is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.” – C.P Cavafy


I want to warmly thank the following hotels: Silva Hotel Splendid (Fiuggi), The Duke Hotel (Rome), Hotel Veneto Palace (Rome), and J.K. Palace Hotel (Rome). The staff has treated me so well, and I appreciated every moment of it.

Earl Grey Galore: Our Moments with Emma of Hartfield.

Life’s enchanted cup sparkles near the brim. – Lord Byron

17:00 Tea Time

Neatly sat at a table were a group of inquiring people. Their prescence in a orderly fashion shared colorful cups of tea whose warmth, and decor shimmered. It was a perfect decision, that to choose to stay indoors on a damp Sunday evening. Each person different in shape, and frame. It was not long for the cups of thin rims, and a fine porcelain bodies to take on a lively stance far from their saucers. Sipped, were the three teas of distant origins with a complextion similar to petals. Each warm essence of the brewed leaves, and flowers were poured inbetween intervals, at the tempo of a gentle chat, the light flickered. The quietude, along with humble laughter seemed to be brightest example of rebellion in comparison to our time. More the merrier, and clearer the guest’s speech became, the futhermore that atmosphere deemed pleasant in what I consider the most beloved essence of art a need for giving and recieving.

What was our subject of matter?

  Emma Woodhouse of Hartfield.

The English Georgian era that layed tween 1714, and 1837 was an era of different manners. Sunday schools, and governesses were children’s means of education, if fortunate. Women were not expected to be self-sufficient, and single women lived with their families and/or protectors. If one would sit down, and ponder they would be amazed at Jane Austen, the author of Emma, a book written in 1816. The author of the delightful novella was 40, and single not in line with the contemporaries of her time. She was not your average women. Realistic, and ironic are the many characters of various Jane Austen’s books that potrayed the many faces of love. Emma Woodhouse, the beautiful young lady of grand fortune, life of comfort, spoiled, was the character in discussion that Sunday evening. She had what she needed to be happy, and she knew it. Not caring for more, but for others’ affairs.  Her favorite past-time? It was matchmaking , which I personally dislike to fall victim of. Believing to have known it all in the matters of the heart. There was nothing that she enjoyed more than spending her precious time, meddling within the relationships of others. The orphan Harriet Smith, who loved  the “simpleton” Mr. Martin, was not too different from Emma despite the ranks of “society” that divided. They were unaware of their similar attitudes in regards to love. The young ladies wanting to be true to themselfves, foolishly find their ways towards their hearts’ desires. One can not help, but notice the characteristics of pride that keep reemerging within Jane Austen’s novels. This recurrence seem to showcase the complex, and seemignly simple people of the Georgian time.  The book is an example of a glimpse of the woman’s inner need to become a ever so free member of society in regards to the social norms. The characters delicately rebeling within their context.

Jane Austen born on the 16th of December in the year 1775, in a family of 8th children. She had a father that was a clergyman, and enjoyed the quiet, simple country life. Author of six published books, not including her various other writings. She is still entertaining us til this day thanks to her novels Sense and Sensibility (1811), Pride and Prejudice (1813), Mansfield Park (1814), Emma (1916), Northanger Abbey (1818), and Persuasion (1818).

Quick Fact: The Hanoverian Kings George I, George II, George III, and George IV were the German Royal house in which inspired the Georgian era period's name.

The Chestnuts of Cuneo are delicious. That night when the guests had left on a gleeful note, the family of the locale were so kind to give me a sack full of chestnuts to take home along with me. May I say it was a fine gift indeed. I adore chestnuts very much. If you happen to be in Italy at this time, make sure to buy hot caldarroste at one of the many stands that you are likely find in your town or city. Chestnuts are perfect to eat in the park, while falling leaves takes the place of falling stars. For people like myself that might find themselfves with little time on their hands. They are perfect to throw into boiling water for fifteen minutes to then peel, and eat. I have never been to Cuneo though, and while looking at the map I can not help notice that it is close to Liguria. Liguria is beautiful.


The Friendly Castle of Moncalieri.

South east of Turin within the region of Piedmont lies a little town called Moncalieri. It is a  pleasant place, also being quite peaceful, and silent this past Saturday on the day I visited. The locale not residing too far from Turin, it is easily accessible by train. The faire also being exceedingly cheap. It did not tax my pockets, not one bit. With various boutiques, bars, and libraries along the way of the main street I headed through the borgo. That day’s visit was directed to what is considered the location’s most famous jewel; The Castello of Moncalieri. I was suprised by the extreme politeness, and furthermore patience of the habitants that made sure to help me along, while guiding me towards the castel. A young habitant’s proof of patience was constantly tested as I stopped to take pictures throughhout the way.  The Piazzetta Vittorio Emanuele II, an elegantly humble square was luminous, and clean with many humble bars to stop at to enjoy an aperitif. The few locals who seemed to be out, and about that day, sat infront of the bar of their choice living graciously in a collected, slow manner. While being pointed out to the various sights, at the corner of the same square there was the Church of San Francesco whose origins date back to a preceding chapel of the 12th century.

Entering a novel is like going on a climb in the mountains: You have to learn the rhythms of respiration – acquire the pace. Otherwise you stop right away.– Umberto Eco

Il Castello di Moncalieri.

  The structure, overtowering the  city for it’s historical fame and  importance is listed within UNESCO’s Lists of Intangible Cultral Heritage. It was the residency of The Royal House of Savoy. It’s an important structure part of the various Sabaude residences,  situated within and on the outskirts of Turin. It is one of the many of the 22 Sabaude constructions to testimony Italy’s monarchic past, a time that preceded the Italian Institutional Referendum of 1946. Built by Tommaso I of the Savoy in the 11th century, the spot  was a strategic one acting as an entrance that looked over the passage of the south of Turin. Under the power of Iolanda di Valois, the daugther of Carlo VII of France the castle became a Villa Di Delizia. The Villas of Delight, were homes of leisure in which nobles went to spend their free time. She along with other historical figures had shared their prescence in the Castle of Moncalieri. The castle went through many architectual work, fountains, and gardens were also then added. Vittorio Emanuele II, also known as Vittorio Emanuele Maria Alberto Eugenio Ferdinando Tommaso di Savoia loved the location, making the castle the perfect study for his children. Currently the castle became a caserma for carabinieri. Today the castle with plenty of stories to tell, is also an museum which is open to the public.

Rivetti, the pastry shop.

In Moncalieri the Pasticcieria Rivetti is much adored by the locals. It was more than once I have been hinted that it is the place to visit, It is a traditional pastry shop with many selections of teas, hot chocolate, and pastries. It is any “old timer’s” perfect place.  Situated in a building of two floors on Via San Martino, the atmosphere recalls a time of a distant past. Untouched, by the trends of today’s era. It was a little paradise for anyone who is searching for a Piccolo Mondo Antico. I asked for a pot of white tea, to go along with a couple of butter cookies that where indeed delicious! Unfortunately though I could not stay long, so as I wandered back to the train station to head towards Turin. I made sure to stop to have a glass of Franciacorta, along with a selection of cheese paired with cold-cuts.

Franciacorta is a delightful sparkling wine, that derives from the region of Lombardy in the small area of Franciacorta, near Brescia. It being similar to the Champagne, the quality is seperb. The bottle must be of DOCG, which is the lable that proves that the wine is the highest level of Italian wine classification.

Les Guerre Des Boutons of Louis Pergaud

This book is new to me. I have found it one evening in a library as I searched for a French book to read. Hidden between various books of various languages. In that precise Italian bookshop did not have a many French books on hand. Tha majority of books were  in English, and obviously Italian. I did however found Les Guerre Des Boutons which in English is translated into The War of Buttons. Written by the French author, and poet Lois Pergaud. Published in 1912, within the first years of Modernisim, the book talks about two children gangs fighting for glory.  Adapted into script for five different movies. The victims that fell prey, being held hostage, and then finding themselfves without their buttons. Funny, and light this story is perfect as a family story. My copy, not being true to the novel’s original, is a copy by Lang Edizioni adapted to teach French through a cartoon illustrations.  While describing the fight between Les Longevernes, and Velrans I am able to learn this language while following the images of the cartoon contained inside. Teaching me the phrases like “Marie a les cheveux blonds.”, and ‘La craie? Pour quoi faire?‘. This way I am able to learn this language as I listen to Serge Gainsbourg day dreaming happily, like a  happy woman should.

Read Jane Austen’s Books Under an Oak Tree, and then Make Soup.

Fragmenti di vita:

Quite to the contrary of my usual habit to travel, this weekend I have choosen to stay within the comforts of home. Outside, the weather slowly turns pages as we become closer within the deeps of Autumn. With cabbage soup simmering on the stove top, along the constant boiling of water for tea, quiet ponderings come easily. I find there is always a reason to feel uplifted when there is constant food in the making. This being said, who could refuse to love the natural attitudes that pertains to this time of year? Certainly not myself. Pumpkin, spices, and the warmth of an Autumn’s palette is a fine luxury.

Daily, I find myself wandering to visit the park to take part of the scenery. Despite the Autumn tone being different from that of Summer it does not seem to loose its essence  amognst the changes. If one needs a quick fix for relaxation, go outside, and take a breathe. The wind slightly tinged of a crisp sensation, stirred along with the leaves is restorative, and calming. Any person could not help but feel protected, and reassured by such a plant. Even the birds, if have not left to find a warmer climate, can not help but build their nests amognst the branches.

Try to forget what objects you have before you – a tree, a house, a field, or whatever. Merely think, ‘Here is a little square of blue, here an oblong of pink, here a streak of yellow,’ and paint it just as it looks to you, the exact color and shape, until it gives you your own impression of the scene before you. -Claude Monet

Quercus pubescens, the oak tree.

A common species of Oak found across Italy is the Roverella, also known as the Quercus pubescens. This particular species easily found in Europe, and the Caucasus; has a high adaptability to poor enviroments. Being a plant able strive in many different extremes of temperatures from hot to cold, this Fagaceae is cultivated in parts of Asia, and the United States. Highly resistant also to the the ignorance of man’s wrong doing, it is a plant that has a strong endurance against fires be that of man or not. With a life range able to to reach up to 1000 years, it blooms around the period of Spring, During the Autumn months little acorns appear. The acorns adored by squirrels, pigs, and people like myself who just enjoy looking at them are considered a sweet meal for critters. Strength, endurance, and courage are words that come into mind in the prescence of a oak tree. In the Roman Republic the corona civica made out of oak leaves was an important prize for acts of military bravery. Studies say that the earth’s surface is negatively charged, constantly producing a helpful antioxidant. I am not suprised! When one is immersed within nature, especially in close contact to the grass he/she is able to feel de-stressing effects on the nervous system.

The Olive Tree, Oak, and the Pinus Pinea:

The trees that best describes the general flora of the Italian peninsula would definitely be the above stated. You are able to find these species of trees throughout Italy. The olive tree, and the pine both cultivated to bear edible fruits. Many are the traditional Italian dishes that contain these ingredients. Pine nuts are also well-known for the pesto alla genovese, a fresh basil based pasta sauce not in season in this part of the year. So forget it! The pinus pinea, known by it’s second name the stone pine is also an important component of the aesthetics of the Italian scenery. Many planted near the Appia Antica in the city of Rome it has the capacity to elicit feelings of wonder, grounding the person to the imagery of the past. Towering high the long limb of this tree is tall enough to be noticed from afar. The stone tree’s humble prescence is impossible to be overlooked.

If I wanted to be similar to the ironic manner of Italians, I can say there are many things one could do under trees! I on the other hand, despite being half Italian myself  I stick to what my friends consider to be my ‘old victorian ways’ and stay away from the subjects pertaining to the birds, and the bees on this blog. Instead, I rather delve in what I consider to be my favorite book of all time. It is a book that every woman had the pleasure to read and that is Pride and Prejudice by the author Jane Austen. Believe me, when I say that there is not a better book I have read! Ever since I was a child I have read this book many times and watched all the movies. The story of Elizabeth Bennet and her intriging interactions with the ambiguous, handsome Mr. Darcy can not help but  stir my childlike nature within making me blush for the sincerity, and the innocence of their ways.  Any woman would lie if they say they are not moved by this story, and if a man dislikes it he might aswell not be ready to explore the realms of love. This book in the perfect setting is the best escape when I feel bound. To read this book under the trees is delightful . What moves me the most about this book is it’s simplicity compared to today’s ways amognst people. I wonder what would Jane Austen would think is she knew that her book published in the year of 1813, ploted in the Regency era would still move women like myself even til this day.

Even if the weather is getting colder reading under a tree is so relaxing! Especially when reading a classic. Make sure though to remember to stay safe! Wear warm attire, and a good jacket to prevent yourself from getting sick! The flu is not fun!

Check out Austen’s Emma, and Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights. These books are well-known, and famous for a reason! To be truthful it would be odd if you have not heard of these books before.

“I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of any thing than of a book! — When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library.”
― Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

All this writing made me hungry.

A Recipe for Hearty Soup.

Soup best represents the collective idea of home and comfort. A hearty brew slowly simmering on the stove stop can be the perfect unifying detail that brings families, and friends together for moments of exchange. Even for the lone wolfves, a flavorsome meal like that of soup is perfect to help uplift an atmosphere that would rather be cold and empty without. Various earthy vegetables are in  season in Italy. Savoy cabbage, cauliflower, pumpkins and carrots are in line with the season.  The above being said, let me guide you to my rustic, spontaneous version of the soup that I make. No need to be a expert, just yourself, and your own curiosity of doing things naturally. Below is a soup whose portion is for a size of a humble family, or for a single person like myself.

Practice makes perfect. No counting is really needed here, this recipe is here to inspire you to sometimes forget the guideline, and create things on your own based on your personal preferences. Do you like Savoy cabbage? Add an extra one! Do you dislike carrots leave them out! Are you not vegetarian? Add chicken instead of pre-made stock. 


1 savoy cabbage

1 cauliflower

A half of a pumpkin

2 onions (because I love onions)

2 carrots

A celery branch

Olive oil, pepper, salt

Add olive oil in a stock pot. Then on a low/medium heat have the oil sizzle along with diced carrots, celery, and onions. Keep a lid on top while for about ten minutes the vegetables become soft. It is important to keep the heat not too high to prevent that the vegetables do not burn. It is prefered that the vegetables are sliced thinly beforehand. Be yourself make sure that you learn by slicing the vegatables the best way possible to fit your criteria. In the meantime as the vegetables cook, prepare the others! Wash the cabbage, the cauliflower, and along with the pumpkin slice them up in nice thick pieces (this is my preference). Then slowly add the vegetables in along the ones that have been already on the stove top. Slowly add broth if you have it. I personally add chicken and the perfect amount of water that will not cause the soup to become too thin. Add a nice spoonfull of salt. Allow the cooking soup to boil before setting it to a medium/low heat,. Alow the concauction to cook cook slowly for many hours straight.

If you have spices on hand add them in! I usually do a blend that change based by whatever there is in the kitchen. Remember pepper and parmigiano reggiano is a must! Serve with warm rye bread in company of friends.

He who distinguishes the true savor of his food can never be a glutton; he who does not cannot be otherwise.

Henry David Thoreau
Italian Vegetables Vocabulary 101:        (A quick note for you.)

 Verza: savoy cabbage

 Cavolfiore: cauliflower

 Zucca: pumpkin

 Cipolla: onion

 Carota: carrot

 Sedano: celery