24 Hours in Rome (Viva Roma!)

Stone pines, Pinus pinea.  

The first thing I noticed during our one day in Rome—other than the crushing push of other tourists and the really annoying street vendors—was the pine trees.

They're emblematic of Italian landscapes so it was refreshing to my mind's eye when they finally made their grand appearance.

[The beauty of the trees inspired the symphonic poem Pines of Rome (Pini di Roma) by Ottorino Respighi nearly 100 years ago (1924). The piece depicts different pine trees in Rome during different times of the day. I have to admit I'm rather fond of the work and if you're familiar with the Disney film Fantasia 2000 you've already heard one of the movements.]

One side of Il Monumento Nazionale a Vittorio Emanuele II. (Note the lovely pine tree.)

One of my husband's favorite buildings is considered a controversial eyesore to many other Italians. I thought it was pretty, but I didn't have many other pieces of architecture to compare it to since I really only saw it and a few other sites on our way to the Vatican. At that time, I didn't fully understand its context, but I do now.

Considering that this is the building built and dedicated to honor Victor Emmanuel II and the unification (Risorgimento) of Italy, I understand the issues involved after having really thought about it. I won't go into detail, but the building is really fascinating. There are so many angles to analyze it from and that's honestly what I ended up taking away from it. Being complicated and controversial is honestly kind of a good thing in Italy so I say let the building do what it does best.

Walking alongside the Tiber River. 

We'd flown into Rome early that day, and had taken the train into the city from the airport. After dropping off our bags at our hotel we started our walk. I think it was around 11am. This did not leave us much time. I was still not well from the food poisoning and I think between the two of us we'd only had 8 hours of sleep the night before. 

Originally we'd planned to have 2 days in Rome but our flight from Palermo had been cancelled and we couldn't reschedule for the same day so we had to settle on this arrangement. It wasn't ideal, but I'm glad I had a few moments there. 

Inside St. Peter's Basilica. The gold ceiling reminded me of home and the arm popping out of the wall added some drama. It was beautiful. I'll give it that.

Though I'm not a practicing or even a confirmed Catholic, my life is Catholic-by-culture. My father is very devout and so is my mother-in-law so it was fun for John and I to be naughty Catholic school kids together. (They both expect that from us at this point.)

Once we were there I was uncomfortable amongst the tourists and found all of their pushing in line, cameras, talking loudly, and chatting on their phones (though you're not supposed to be doing so) incredibly disrespectful.

It felt a lot like a zoo that day but I guess it was the beginning of Easter week.

It was Good Friday when we visited and these were real palm fronds out front on St Peter's columns. 

If I'd wanted to be around piety, I could have gone to Mass, but that was highly unlikely. 

(I thankfully had other quiet moments in other churches during the trip. I even saw what's left of the body of my favorite female saint. I had no idea I'd get that opportunity and it was a very exciting surprise for me.)

At least John and I tried on some 'tough guy' faces while loitering at the entrance.

Overall, the Vatican kind of underwhelmed me—and yes, of course I feel guilty now.

I knew I should have picked the botanical garden. (**Just joking!**)

The view from our hotel room. The rooftop garden in the distance had a tomato jungle growing in it.

Our walk back to the hotel from Vatican City was a physically painful one for me. (I guess I could have taken a taxi, but I was trying to save money.) My feet and legs had exploded by this point and my swelling disease was throwing a serious fit. Oops!

I was hoping Pope Francis would cruise past us in his Ford Focus and we'd catch a ride with him to our hotel because he'd taken pity on me—but no dice.

To make the time pass I had fun spinning old religious yarns in my head about pilgrims. Despite the pain, that walk was good for me because I was in Rome after all and in the moment. It was a space in life, and in this world, I'd never really lived in and that felt really good. I think I grew a bit more as a person during that short-lived day despite the difficulties—or maybe because of them. That's so often the case now isn't it?

• • •

Later, after resting, we had an amazing dinner, and of course I didn't take photos. My mind was yet a bit wild.

I wanted to add though that the art deco era Atlantico Hotel (just a block or so from the train station) was a great place to stay and I highly recommend it. The rooftop restaurant of its sister hotel (Hotel Mediterraneo) was more than outstanding. After a long day it was such a treat to eat dinner while overlooking the Vatican and the Colosseum.

Thoughts of Fellini filled my head—but not for long. I'd look over at John and he was clearly having a difficult time containing himself.

In the morning we'd leave for Venice and this was exciting for my husband. He could not wait to show me the region of his people. I was nervous about this, but curious. I was also terrified of more tourists. (If this trip taught me anything, it's that I'm not fond of the masses. I just get rattled. This never used to happen, but I think years of illness have really made it worse. That was a difficult realization. I'd changed and not noticed.)

It saddened me to have seen such a tiny sliver of Rome, but I hope to return to it someday.

But Venice, we'll it's just a different creature all together...

Wordless Wednesday: Green Peeks from Sicily, Italy (Sicilia, Italia)

Tassel Hyacinth aka Muscari comosa or Leopoldia comosa. (Photo taken at Villa Romana del Casale.) 

Possibly date palm—let me know if you can identify it. (Photo taken at Villa Romana del Casale.)

One of many Cercis siliquastrum seen blooming in Sicily in April. (Photo taken in the Valle dei Templi in Agrigento at the garden wall of Alexander Hardcastle's home.) 

Lovely Bougainvillea.  (Photo taken in the Valle dei Templi in Agrigento at Alexander Hardcastle's home.) 

Please don't prune your Asparagus to look like this. (Photo taken in the Valle dei Templi in Agrigento at Alexander Hardcastle's home.) 

Unknown tree. (Photo taken at the cimitero in Termini Imerese.)

More palm trees and lovely handmade pebble paving from the streets of Termini Imerese. (This was the home of my great-grandparents.)

Trees in the city park in Termini Imerese. 

Lovely large Lantana along the street in Termini Imerese.

Caster bean (Ricinus communis) plants grow wild along the roads in Sicily. 

Artichokes (Cynara cardunculus var. scolymus) growing along the road.) 

Borage (Borago officinalis) growing wild along the side of the road in Sicily. 

Wild Sedum growing along the roadside near Termini Imerese. 

Wild snapdragon (Antirrhinum majus) growing in its native environs. My husband told me that in Italian they're called  "mouth of the lion". He played a lot with these flowers as a boy.  

Not exactly sure of the plant, but I do recognize Sicilian ingenuity. If Dad gardened, this is how he'd stake his plants.

Convolvulus tricolor growing wild in Sicily. 

And I'd thought this gardener hadn't been busy during December...

Japanese White Pine in training since 1950. Country of Origin: Japan. Pacific Rim Bonsai Collection

I am still a gardener in search of a garden of sorts. Much uncertainty remains in 2013 but I don't mind it at all anymore. Every single day is a huge opportunity for me now and my health continues to improve as do my spirits. Whenever I plant a seed something grows. So I'm tossing them everywhere right now and I'm sitting back to see what germinates.

I am a guerilla gardener of the heart.
This is my time
—to live a bit as a wildflower.
Finally.

Palm Leaf, Sabalites species, around 50 million years ago Chuckanut Formation, Whatcom Co. Washington. Burke Museum of Natural History and Culture 

A large part of this seed planting campaign of mine has involved seeing and speaking with very old friends of mine. Doing so really helps me to remember more of who I used to be and who I want to be again now. Illness broke me down but it didn't kill me. I lost a lot of momentum but if you know me you also know that I can be a tiny force of nature when I am at my best.

My high school friend Elise Krohn, herbalist and native foods specialist. Wild Foods & Medicines Blog 

Recently I made a brief overnight trip to Seattle to see two of these old friends. I attended the book re-release party for a publication an old friend of mine had contributed to, and additionally I spent time in the other friend's home getting to know her husband and small son. Since the three of us attended the same high school together it was an über supportive trip. My sudden wellness after so many years brings them much happiness too and I like to be that in their lives right now. It helps my healing too. Dare I say that it helps us grow much stronger together. 

I have grown a lot during the past two months and it will be showing more and more in the months to come.

Elisabeth C. Miller Library

Of course I had to stop by the library dedicated to nothing but horticulture at the University of Washington too. Luckily it wasn't open long enough for me to go crazy making lists of things.

Center for Urban Horticulture

Seeing the Center for Urban Horticulture in winter was a beautiful treat too since I've only ever been there during the warmer months. 

Sometime before Christmas I tidied up out front. I guess I was tired of the Doug fir debris in the house.

Oh and the seeds, the lovely, lovely piles I was unable to get to last year. They are very much on my mind now.

There were those dark and lonely moments too. So I took pictures to remember them by in the future. Then I quickly forgot about them.

Something about spending my first Christmas alone after a decade-long relationship was exhilarating and it allowed me to really toss out more emotional baggage. I can do this on my own now if I choose to and that feels really good to me. I don't feel I was ever really given that choice.

 I watched the fat cat sleep a lot. Maurice is old.

 The neighbors had their old cherry tree cut down. That was exciting for a day.

Visions of children playing in gardens appeared to me on a walk. I love this city.

I started a wide scarf for myself using organic cotton yarn on one of my knitting looms. Most materials bother my skin a lot so it was fun to go to the yardage store to pick the yarn myself. I felt so empowered—for lack of a better word.

I watched the fat cat sleep a lot with his little buddy Mona too. December is when the part-ferral cat is not very ferrel. It is always a cute process to watch as she becomes needier and needier. Before you know it she's wrapped up at your feet while you type a blog post at 1am.

Somehow I sewed a few Christmas tree ornaments. This one looks a bit like my interests of cooking and gardening slammed together. A green ravioli. I was clearly not thinking. 

I also tried to rescue my old Christmas tree houseplant but it was neglected so much this past year I will need to nurse it back to the fine specimen it used to be so that wherever I am next Christmas it will be ready to shine again. 

Luckily a friend gave me some forced Daffodil bulbs just before he went home to Scandinavia for the holidays. Normally I would have had a huge floral arrangement but times are tough and I was working solo on the annual Christmas Eve dinner so this worked out well. It was perfect and so much better than nothing. (It smells great too even if it makes me sneeze. Yes, those of us with allergies must choose our battles.)

Then there was that goose I stuffed and roasted. It was amazing and I was so proud I made it through the whole experience on my own.

I also made a really simple cabbage dish with apples and spices. It went perfectly with the sausage and cornbread stuffed goose. Overall the more simple the food the happier my body is when I eat it. I am still in awe of my ability to consume goat milk products in moderation.

I am such a lucky woman now.

Oh, and then there were those funny faces I made with my eldest niece Chelsea when I spent some quality time with her, her younger sister Lindsey, and their childhood friend Emily. How quickly my little women have grown up!

I am still making faces apparently today too. Not sure what this expression is about but I think it has something to do with my hair being in pigtails. At what age are pigtails inappropriate on a woman? I have no clue. Maybe I don't want to know. Believe it or not but I was actually thinking about how the wear my hair when I get back out there in the dirt soon. It's growing and I am so happy to have it long again.

See, I do think about a lot of other things.

December was one hell of a month but I tossed out so many seeds in so many places—here, there, everywhere. I'm surrounded by good fertile opportunities and I'm really excited about so many new things happening in my life. Best of all, the soil in my heart no longer feels so barren. I am happily growing again and am feeling more at peace than I have in many years.

This gardener had a beautiful Christmas and I hope you did too! 

Here's to watching it all grow again in 2013! 

Let's bring back our heirlooms, the all-time favorites and producers,

 but let's not forget we should always be open to the new stuff too. 

Like maybe this blogger might finally release another book. 

Booyeah!

O-Bon, the Spirit Festival at the Portland Japanese Garden

One of the key reasons I annually renew my membership to the Portland Japanese Garden is so that I can attend this members only event each August. During this time of year in Japan, for 3 days each summer, there is a spirit festival which is considered a homecoming of sorts to welcome back the spirits of ancestors into your home and life. Ever since my first visit to this festival, back when I was still a teenager, the Rev. Kodachi has led the Buddhist ceremony. I am honored to know both he and his wife. (I used to work with Mr. Kodachi during the summer for a week-long Japanese exchange program he created and Mrs. Kodachi just so happens to be my ikebana sensei.)

Before the ceremony, guests gather for Bon Odori. Of the 3 dances performed last night, this is the one I'm most familiar with since I learned it years ago. It is the dance of the Tankō Bushi or "coal mining song."

Guests enter the garden after the performance, and as the Rev. Kodachi chants, we are handed candles that are later lit and are floated on the pond en masse. 

Guests continue on and gather on the Moon Bridge. They can be seen to the left. 

Sadly my Grandmother Virginia's name was not read, but when my candle was sent out, I thought a lot about her. 

To my great surprise, for the first time, I heard much more weeping around me from the other guests and it made me smile.

I looked up at the night sky through the pine needles above and I thought about how she and I used to cry together so often. This would make us turn to laughing eventually and giggling about being such sensitive women. Grandma called us crybabies and she used to apologize that I'd inherited her traits but I'd comfort her by telling her that my sensitivity made me strong by making me vulnerable and honest. 

We both knew we had the horrible fate of being born with the hearts and souls of poetesses. Those around us did not understand this, and in my case, they still don't, but it's ok. Grandma feared others really knowing her, and knowing this weakness she had, but I am so proud she gave it to me too and I thanked her last night since it's what has made my life so unique and special. She gave me my heart and soul. This is a beautiful thing to give a woman and I am grateful above all else to her. 

The alter. 

After the event was over, I spent additional time speaking with the Rev. Kodachi, Mrs. Kodachi, and their son—whom I haven't seen in years. I met two of their granddaughters and I was filled with that happiness I so often have when I see small little women. We spoke of my divorce, my health, my plans for the future, and then I promised to return to ikebana classes next month.

I have my spirit back now and I very much look forward to moving on in my floral arranging studies. Ikebana is my art form and poetry and I really hope to keep doing it for many years to come.

The lights collecting, reflecting in the water, the koi sleep beneath. 

Portland Japanese Garden