Figs and Pears for Breakfast

It's a quiet, still and potentially bright morning here in at Casa Rosa. It's a smidgeon too early to really say exactly what kind of day it will be, but the forecast is good. Since the storms of last week, after the Equinox, and the intermittent rains that have followed, the season really has noticeably changed. There's a definite morning chill in the air. What seemed like very advanced preparation on the day I arrived, receiving a wagon load of wood and stacking it in the hot sunshine, now almost overnight is becoming a necessity. In a couple of days it will be October, and then there will be no denying that winter is just around the corner. I lit the the sitting room stufa on Sunday night, and this morning, while I was waiting for the kettle to boil, I pottered about in the thin light and took the summer ‘clothes’ off the hot plate of the ‘cucina economica’ in the kitchen. Having been out through the evening, it was cold when I got in last night, and I wished I had lit it before I went out. I love that little cooking stove, it’s one of the joys of winter to have it radiating cozy heat in the kitchen with a pot of hearty soup gently simmering on top of it. 

Yesterday I cleared out the little wood store at the end of the terrace, including a little shredded bundle of paper and old plastic bag - clearly some creature, probably a ghiro, had nested over winter there last year. I wasn’t around to notice. Having stacked all of that wood up at Casa Salice, my sister’s house, now I have to gradually bring it further down the hill and stack it all again. Easier said than done, given the state of the paths after almost a year of inattention. Everywhere has an air of neglect, trees, bushes and the lovely wisteria are all overgrown, and the little cobble paths around the house are hidden under a layer of green. The fig bushes are gigantic, completely blocking the way around to the terraces. My orto is just a fenced off field of weeds. 

Tending the land is an ongoing process but we often have visitors who join in. This year though, we hosted no eco-warriors, lockdown prevailed, all retreats and visitors were cancelled. I couldn’t even get myself here for months, and nature quickly took over, just as it did everywhere else. It’s impossible to plan for next year yet, and my energy is going into the projects I’ve got running in Middlesbrough. Even there, because what I do is community based, it’s difficult to plan ahead in these Covid times, and I’ve shifted and changed my ideas. The events of this year have taught me more then ever to live in the present, keeping my eyes and thoughts open to possibility. I find myself thinking how to work outside in urban Middlesbrough in the winter, can our Secret Garden alley greening project include shelters? Can I install giant doors in the back wall of the workshop that can draw back to make spaces flexible? 

Here in the mountains I am reminded that nothing stays the same for long, that work you think you’ve finished so often has to be done over again. It’s life really isn’t it? Attracted by windfalls and water, the cingiale have had the run of the place, and they’ve used the terraces as a helter-skelter, bring down piles of soil over the paths. They will have to be dug out all over again before I can easily bring the bulk of wood down by barrow. Meanwhile I carry down enough for now in strong bags, regaining my fitness and strength in the process. 

Back in Middlesbrough the alley projects also require resilience and the will to start over again, not everyone appreciates what we’re trying to do, we are up against the flytippers and the trashers, but we keep going, keep tidying, keep planting. The council keeps trying to solve local issues, residents and their allies keep on keeping on, staying creative, making a difference, knowing that the process and the freindships made are as important as the rest of the outcomes. I keep my vision of posibility. Casa Rosa has seen also see abundant years and dark times, it was being built here in Bagni di Lucca at around the time of the steel boom in Middlesbrough, this house and those alleys both have been there for ages. People come and go. Events are cyclical.  

As I write this, the sun is appearing over the top of the mountains and bathing the land in golden light. I’m high enough up to catch those rays first here at Casa Rosa, inverted clouds gently drift below me around the contours of the hills, village houses appear and disappear in the distance through the lifting mists. It is definitely going to be a sunny day, and it’s time to get on. Fresh pears and figs for breakfast, because nature carries on doing her thing whether the land is tidy or not! I can’t wait to plant fruit trees in Gresham. 

I wonder how you’re preparing for winter?