I WANT TO KNOW, DAMN IT!

October 21 2013Today we have no electricity: no lights, no heat, no fridge, no Nespresso machine (argh!) no Internet (arrrrgh!) A massive storm hit during the night, plunging us and neighboring villages into an earlier time when light came via the sun, moon, candles and lanterns. The road to town is impassable, it and the bridge having been washed away, which is slightly eerie as the novel I am currently writing has six characters stranded in a small inn because, yes, a massive storm has taken out the road the bridge. In the eighteen years that we’ve been coming here this is the first time we’ve heard the river, some three miles from here. Today it is roaring like an ocean. Parts of the Cassia, the road to Rome, are flooded, as is our local supermarket. Acquaintances a mile down the road from us have a house full of mud.But wait, there’s more! A week ago I stabbed my hand cleaning candlewax. Our granddaughter fell last weekend, gashing her forehead on a crate…three hours in emergency. My daughter has vertigo and my dear husband removed part of the top of his head on a low stucco beam while going to the aid of our dear Luana who, a week ago, skidded on our road, lost control of the car, went off the road, up an embankment, flipped three times and landed in a ditch. She is now in bed for three weeks with a fractured vertebra. This would probably not be a good time to visit us…ya think!But isn’t life grand? Ten days ago we were in Florence for the la-di-dah opening of the new Leica store, sponsored by the Ferragamo brothers, who later dined us at their restaurant. The event, with a SRO talk by Joel, was over the top Italian, from the deafening music, to the neon-hued cocktails, to a hoard of paparazzi which arrived at the same time as a crowd of arm candy; some thirty young women…there must have been an app… were suddenly all over Joel, their lip-glossed smiles as wide as their heels were high. A proper putana-fest, I tell you.And in the midst of all this activity we have been preparing to leave for Provence, a transition from one beautiful place to another, but a transition nonetheless which, for us, involves carting a lot of stuff; piano, professional printer, bedding and enough of our favorite household items to make us feel at home. Originally, Gianni and his son were to portage us, but now that Luana is bed-ridden that is, of course, not possible. So suddenly the hunt was on for a reliable driver with van. But here’s the thing; and it’s the thing we came away to practice and which we are continually re-learning, which is to pay attention to how we feel and what we feel capable of at any given time. And so it was that we woke up a few mornings ago and said, hey, what’s the rush? The rush was about not only being in Provence and seeing our dear friends there, but also about being in a house that has a fireplace and bathtub. But really, what’s another week without those things?And, here’s another thing; all summer we heard ourselves saying, if only this house had a fireplace and a bathtub, we’d stay. We love it here on the farm. We love the farmers, the cows, the landscape; the easy flow of the house, our wonderful loft studio. And, if truth be told, as much as we love Gianni and Luana’s old Tuscan house up the hill, after a week of going there everyday to help Luana, we realized that what we really loved about it was our friends and all the wonderful outside dinners we have there every summer. But it’s not summer any more and the house is big and cold and dark. And I realized that, in fact, for weeks now, every time I thought about furnishing a 3-story house and taking care of a huge garden I felt overwhelmed.Then, last Tuesday, the farmers, Silvia and Vincenzo came to us and told us they’d like to put in a fireplace and bathtub for us! Are you kidding! By Thursday the four of us were shopping for the tub in Siena and on Friday Gianni took us to a fireplace specialist who had exactly what we need to build the wood-burning fireplace of our dreams. When we return in March or April, it will all be done.Over the last fifteen years we made three attempts at having a home of our own here in the Val D’Arbia. Each of those attempts failed, two of them miserably. The second attempt involved turning an old stone grain barn into a house. We spent three months here clearing the land, designing the whole place. Then, just as we installed the first fireplace the owner changed his mind. It was heartbreaking.So, here’s another thing; this house is an old stone grain barn, simply renovated by Silvia and Vincenzo three years ago. We are the only people who have lived in it and we hope now that we will be the only ones for some time to come.The phrase, ‘good things take time,’ comes to mind, and for sure, some things do indeed take their own good time. But what about the meantime and what does that word, meantime, mean? Does it imply that the times between the good ones are mean, or does it just mean, mean, as in time has its own meaning…about which we know so very little.I look out the studio window; it’s early afternoon but between the storm and having no power it is so dark I’m writing by candlelight. The skylight is leaking into 5 strategically placed pots. The trees are being whipped laterally by the wind. The area outside the front door is flooded and yet a few minutes ago I found myself standing out there to get a 3G signal on my iPhone so that I could get the weather forecast!  Why? Because like most people I sometimes have a hard time accepting how little I know. I want to know how much longer the storm will last. I want to know when the power is coming back. I want to know if Joel will get home safely from the next valley or will all the back roads be flooded by then? I want to know what the cows think of this. And I want to know what’s happening with my six, stranded characters in the novel I’m writing, the title of which is……“You Know What..?”