Reflections on My 40 Years in Umbria

As I walked in the garden today, on this gorgeous spring-like day

after the snow and cold of yesterday, I was overwhelmed by nostalgia: everywhere I looked I could see the sights and hear the sounds of Mar and Michael as children; their laughs, their excited discussions after the major discovery of some bug, their jumping, running, swinging, climbing, riding, falling, and calling, "Mommy, watch me".

Maurizio, of course, the builder at heart that he is, made sure there were plenty of attractions: multiple swings under various large oaks, an ingeniously built tree house, spring boards, butterfly nets, screened boxes to put insects in for short observation before freeing them again, sand boxes, and bunkers for hiding and springing surprise attacks.

I saw the volleyball nets, the goalies, where softball and soccer were played on the largest lawn (now carpeted in wild flowers), where bicylcles raced along the viali. I remembered my handy first aid kit with lots of bandaids.

Today as I walked under the glorious sun I saw their excitement and delight when I brought out trays of homemade cookies and glasses of cold milk, or homemade bread with our own cured prosciutto to be eaten outside; when I would pull up a chair and watch them play soccer, or race each other, or see who could jump higher or ride faster or catch more butterflies; or, in the evenings, who could catch more fireflies to leave under a glass for the firefly fairy.

Of course, the children who are no longer children are still in the garden - in my memories, in my heart, in my soul, the same joyful little children are playing in the beautiful garden of our house on the hill as my mother liked to call it.