A farewell.
I arrive back to meet up with the girls. Xmas markets are set up in the piazza and an ice rink. There's been a week of minus temperatures and now the chance of snow and when we awake, it begins to fall and continues until it’s thick underfoot as we venture out into it’s magic.
The wooden nativity scene with figures and and animals dressed in crochet are covered with snow, the fences are outlined in white, it doesn't stop and it’s like living in a snowglobe. We’re enthralled.
We make bombardinos at home and hand whip the cream with a fork because I still haven’t bought a hand mixer. We cook heavy carb meals and I discover a recipe for potatoes that is divine! Cutting them in halves, scoring them and laying them on a bed of melted butter, herbs and parmesan and baking them until they are squishy. But the potatoes here in November/December are soft and almost sweet, delicious.
I have the cousins up from the downstairs flat and cook up a storm. Thin slices of turkey, layered with prosciutto and provolone cheese, rolled up and bathed in milk and dusted with breadcrumbs and baked, the parmesan potatoes, special green spiky cauliflower called Romanesco broccoli and a tiramisu marbled with pistachio paste and laced with pistachio liquor. The Xmas season is upon us.
We experience a full moon that seems to turn the snow a slight green colour. The washing machine breaks down and I navigate the language to buy a new one at the one and only electrical shop in town. It seems to work.
Icicles form, we scrunch through snow on afternoon walks and rush out to watch the sun set at four, turning the snowy mountain apricot and all shades of salmon and then gold.
The lake is turquoise against the pearl of the snow and ice begins to edge into the lake in round drifts. We watch every morning as the snow plough cleans our street and we search for deer tracks in the snow when we walk down to the shops.
On one walk, a leafless tree with the last of the apples is taken over by ravens, an eerie sight.
One night we go down for dinner at the one local restaurant that is still open and we walk back home through the fields and lie down in the snow and create snow angels and throw snow balls. Life in a cold climate has it's advantages.
We eat gooseberries from their papery gift wrap and buy beautiful hand painted woodwork and handmade velvet pumpkins at the market and have orange cinnamon flavoured hot chocolate at our favourite bar, Sweet Art and pizza at Antiqva with our favourite waitress, Jessica who always remembers my order, the same every time. Spinach and ricotta with hot salami.
And then it’s time to leave, we’ve been trying to get a flight back for 3 weeks now and finally one has occurred and we’re heading home two days before Xmas.When we awake, we are given a magnificent farewell with a stunning sunrise. Our lovely friend and owner of the best shop-of -all-things, Silvano, takes us down to the bus stop and we’re on our way down to Venice. Just before we’re about to get off the bus, the Italian man across from me, positions his cigarette ready to light upon touching the ground.
We’ve been so lucky in that it snowed so much before we left so we could experience the beauty of this place as winter begins its slow descent.
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