Letters from a 300-year-old Italian farmhouse. November 1

The fog surrounding us.

Nov 01, 2024

How to see the way through the fog.

Mists creep between the mountain ridges, eery and beautiful. Fog wraps its arms around the earth, cool, soft, clouds muffling the sounds of the birds and the tractors, and my own thoughts become louder. Meanwhile, grapes are in the tanks, quietly fermenting, on their way to becoming wine. All around us, autumn has arrived in earnest.

In America, people are walking the streets in outrageous and colorful costumes, collecting candy, calling on neighbors, a day of childlike revelry even for adults. I think everyone there seems to need an outlet, to break the exhausting tension of the last several months, to find comfort in a tradition that lets them laugh a little.

In Italy, there are no trick or treaters. We have All Saints Day, a quiet, pensive holiday, almost a sacred time to reflect, to remember loved ones lost—parents, grandparents, and friends. A visit to the local chapel, a drive out to the cemetery and then a long lunch with family in a warm and cozy neighborhood trattoria filled with other families doing the same thing. It's a chance to linger at the table and feel the energy of one another, and of the departed, to keep their memories near, alive and well. That can bring its own comfort.

I love this calm and solitary time of year in Piemonte. The powerful Italian sun of the summer is tucked away, behind the mists, allowing me to turn inward and think, to reflect, and even to remember friends and family I have lost.

On the way to the cemetery, we drive by Trattoria dell’Amicizia, “Friendship Cafe.” It is still shuttered, two years after Nicoletta’s untimely passing. She was the sunshine of our little town of Roddino, and of our lives here in Italy, lighting up any room she entered, welcoming us to her trattoria—for coffees in the morning, then lunches, and dinners late into the night. On her tiptoes, she was barely five feet tall, but her smile towered over all of us.

No one makes better Ravioli del Plin than she did, or more delicious Veal in Barolo Sauce. On quiet evenings, she would bring her plate from the kitchen and join my husband and me at our table for dinner. Her young twins were her abiding passion, and would come out of their rooms each evening to say goodnight to the guests before they went off to bed. We were treated like family.

We lost her far too early, to breast cancer at age 42, only a few months after her diagnosis. I am still sad, angry even, that she is gone. But Italians have a way of coping with strife, with hurt, and grief. They turn first to family. Then to their neighbors and their faith, if not their church. They survived two world wars in their backyards, and have had years of chaotic governments. They find a way to go on, to appreciate the small things, a good meal, an old friend, shared laughter. They grow their own vegetables and make their own pasta and rely on themselves and one another, and they get by. Every year, I learn more from Italians and respect them even more.

I ache for Nicoletta and my heart goes out to her family. But on this deep quiet of November 1st, in the heavy wetness of the fog, with the flowers at her grave piled up as tall as she was, and a photo of her with that inimitable smile shining back at us, I feel her warmth again.

A little Italian sunshine, in my day, in my life.

What about you? How are you this week, this weekend? Lots of tension and stress with Election Day looming? Can you find some quiet time, to be alone with your thoughts, and to reach out to those you love?

Please tell me, how are you feeling? How are you coping?? Are your finding joy in your weekend? I want to know. There is much to celebrate even amidst the fog of confusion. What are you celebrating? Let me know.

Meanwhile, its good to connect here on “Letters” with you. And I will see you again next week, right here.

This is how I stay close to everyone far away. I will be writing letters every week or two, with stories of Piemonte, recipes that I have fallen in love with, tales of people I meet, places I discover and anything else that I think you might find amusing, curious or worthwhile. It’s a way to look at the world from a different window, and hopefully let a little Italian sunshine into your day.