On the Farm

I wanted to hide in my bed this morning. I was hoping that I may get lost somewhere between my velvety Brookstone Nap blanket and the unforgiving IKEA sheets. When the alarm clock squawked I gave it a forward push that sent it flying across the tile floor. This turned out to be more inconvenient ten minutes later when it relentlessly made a second attempt to set me into motion. I was told that this dance could be heard from outside my room. Thirty minutes later, I finally succumbed to the noise command and in a tizzy threw the covers halfway between the floor and the headboard where they still remain.
As a morning person, I am not normally as shrewd about waking up. However this week the season in Italy has blithely jumped from summer to winter, skipping directly over fall. This has abruptly caused the tile floor to be an inhospitable place for feet at 8am. John Rose is concerned about fresh air and I am concerned about warm air. Can I please have a portable heater for my room?
Unfortunately, I did not get to stay in bed all day. Francesca arrives promptly at 9am for Italian class and if you are not in the class room by 9:10, someone is coming to look for you. This is not a conventional private university or even similar to being at Meredith where your presence will not be missed amongst 40 students. This is a family at a dinner table and if you are not at your place when dinner is served a search party is dispersed. You cannot skip class in the Palazzo Alberti by sleeping because a siren of voices louder than the irritating alarm clock will implode your slumber.
While skipping class is not an option, skipping lunch is out of the question. If Margarita is cooking, I will be at the table regardless of how sick, tired, or broken I might be. This is normally the most enjoyable part of any day and as John Rose say, we host the best restaurant in Sansepolcro. Today our 20 position table was full of guests. The day could not get any better than this!
Or could it?
This afternoon my science class was scheduled to attend a wine pressing. While I realize how fortunate I am to be in Italy, I did not apprehend how opportune it is to see such event. Following a brigade of intrigued Americans, we rode our bikes about 4km alongside the sensual panoramic of the Tuscan hills and arrived on a private farm. In true Italian fashion we were warmly greeted and welcomed as old friends. The large farm house had been built in 1619 and consisted of multiple cellars a few stories deep. Besides the fact that I have never seen a house this old in the United States, I was captivated by the story this house would tell if it could speak. I thought about World War II and my resent studies on the havak caused by the Nazis on private properties in Italy. Who had lived here? What is their story? The current residents are a family of eight. Besides a vineyard, they have a classic farm complete with chickens, roosters, pigeons, doves, a garden, pigs, cows, hay, honey bees, and all that is generated hanging to cure or canned on a shelf in the barn. I am positive there is even a writing spider in the entryway. Furthermore, I was reminded that I was still in Italy on account of the clothes line strung between the barn and the house. I felt at home in this place, which is strange since I have not lived a day in my life in this manner. I can say that I grew up on a farm because I did in a sense. Merry Bee Farm will always be my home and haven. Nevertheless I did not grow up having to chase the rooster back into the pen or harvest to crop when the date demanded. These things I missed and I am afraid that my generation is detached from this lifestyle. I want my future children (fingers crossed) to experience this one day. I hope the subsequent generation will value the simplicity of canning summer tomatoes for sauce and picking eggs out the coop for breakfast. In any case, this is where it all begins.
After enjoying fresh cheese from the cow’s milk, eating ham cured cut down from the barn ceiling, and drinking Vinsanto, offered only to the most special of guest, I finally realized I had chosen the right faculty! I informed Dr. Swabb that she had a great deal of work to do to top this field trip!