This post is number 36 in a series.

Wild social whirl. Home after midnight. Post thought but unwritten, and rules allow skippage, so ...

Monday last, the Italians elect Silvio for a third-term, definitely the triumph of hope over experience. And I sit on the station platform for almost an hour...

This post is number 35 in a series.

Moonflowers. Hyacinth beans. A Mandevilla I got from the big garden on Saturday. A sweet-scented white-flowered shrub that makes glaucous, dark-blue berries, nabbed from friend Cini's terrace. My own cannas, years old. An Ipomoea, ditto. And a tomato from some...

This post is number 34 in a series.

Got into a slight cooking frenzy last night, which included a thick split pea and pancetta soup that went straight into the fridge. And lo! This evening it was great to have on hand, having spent the day hard at work doing justice to the newly pruned potted...

This post is number 33 in a series.

We were visiting a friend who is responsible for a large garden. He had to check the greenhouses. Plural. In one, row upon row of seedlings, including many tomatoes. I cannot see tomato seedlings but that I have to brush my hand over the tips. My science brain...

This post is number 32 in a series.

Back in Rome, and there is definitely something less buzzing about the atmosphere. There are crowds in the streets, but they seem to be plodding. There isn’t the spring in the step or the purposive energy. More like knots of people hanging around, or walking a...