Hedonism, Slightly Chilled

Another summer of healing, refreshing, recharging, renewing.

Falling asleep to rain, rustling of trees, or - still stunning - silence.

Freshest cool early breezes push past diaphanous curtains before and long after sunrise ...

where I can still be found in sateen sheet tactile bliss,

again, again stretching my arms just to let them sink slowly, again, into the white marshmallow-y down comforter ... as if they have all day to do so.

A special summer of mornings in the garden, mugs of cappuccino, herbal teas,

sitting in the shade with a book before the sun is overhead.

Afternoons with a stack of more books, laptop, toes poking at the back of the rattan chair across from me,

glass of wine within easy reach (in case we haven't met - that's a given)

It's a ritual: "There are breezes, therefore I am ... on my porch."

And oh, the evenings - especially those spent around a table with friends and (have we met?) more wine. We sit in the shadows of the mountains, briefly turn our faces to the sky as a few drops of rain fall from clouds quickly moving east, laughs accompanied by the sunset showing off in the west. We toast as a star falls to the south and fall silent, momentarily. Of course I make a wish, then a joke, and rejoin chatter.  

Um ... so what the hell?

Despite this perfection, a grace that has somehow found its way into this phase of my life - the most sumptuous days and nights of peace, smiles, meditation, space, variety, freedom of movement on the trails, on my yoga mat, at the gym, in my house, on these roads that seem giant to me now, something is starting to wave a white flag, albeit, gently.  There's an cool undercurrent that something is different now.  Something, despite the comforts of assimilating back into a normal (seriously - AWESOME) Colorado life, is new and demanding attention.

Something deeper - more sensuous than anything that can touch my body or fill my glass (really, HAVE we met??) is tickling my mind, seducing my spirit with sweet, restless energy.  

Something, which I thought I would simply wear the rest of my life like a tattoo on a rarely exposed curve (except during a rare celebratory table dance amongst friends - and shut up) is starting to cop a bit of an attitude.  Only the other night as I cried like una bambina watching the end of Cinema Paradiso did it hit me.  You can take the girl out of Italy, but you can't take Italy out of the girl!

That has to be it.  Hours I spend every day listening to Italian music, reading books, looking up words, singing, talking, writing e-mails or posting to other blogs and mumbling maledizione as soon as I hit send realizing I made another stupid grammar error, but smiling because at least I'm learning.  Of COURSE there's a glass of wine to my right (we've met, yes?)  Watching these gorgeous films are keeping me in a holding pattern of "thaw," while saving any inspiration to write another damned word the rest of the summer from freezing over. 

I stick my nose in the mailbox everyday (and wine glass every night, I believe we've met) waiting for my new passport to return or latest Netflix fix (next on deck is Le Notti Bianche!)

I'm making final arrangements for classes in Italy and France this fall, so that "something" needs to give it a rest - and chill. 

Meanwhile, you can bet there are still a plethora of flavors, textures, activities, and types of trouble to get into.  Call it hedonism ... I call it ... one hell of a complex summer, layered with spice, deep and brooding, with bright notes, and a creamy, luxurious persistence - a slightly bitter but enjoyable finish.

Best served slightly chilled, with warm friends.

(Photo Courtesy of Margaret Herrick.  From Fellini's 8 1/2, (1963), 

and my Summer "Cinema Italiano" crack habit.)