It is 4:14 a.m. No. I haven’t gone to bed yet but the first bird just sang!
I could say I’m in the throes of jet lag, but really it was the seduction of a book given to me by my friend Anne and her kids before I left Seattle.
“The Glassblower of Murano” by Marina Fiorato, takes place in Venice. Tonight I couldn’t put it down. I settled into the couch and acquiesced to its pull.
And now the birds are singing…
Good night. (Or is it “good morning”.)
In Italy last summer, I always woke before the sun came up, certainly before my daughter, and enjoyed the dawn. In Florence, the B&B was a 4th floor walk-up with a stairway to a small terrace on the roof. A cup of coffee. An Italian Renaissance novel. Birds announcing the start of day. A few neighbors appearing on their rooftops in housecoats. The first sun catching the tower tops. Doggone it, Maureen, I am so jealous.
Dave, what a lovely recollection. And what a way to start the day! Look how it stays with you.
There are some wonderful, dear moments in being here. It’s the simplest of things that spark my heart so deeply. What a gift this experience is for me.