This is our last night at Le Macine and what a night it is.
Thunder. Lightening. Wind. Electricity out … on … out. Torrential rain. Hail. As I write, it’s been going on for an hour and a half. We thought we’d walk up
the hill for one last bite of gourmet pizza before we left. Maybe not.
The stream that has burbled so pleasantly by our kitchen
window has turned into a raging river. We’ve taken pictures to mark spots on
the wall of the foundation opposite us. Each time we look, the stream is inches
higher. It’s whitewater. Literally!
As a writer of memoir, I know that we are more likely to
remember the unusual or the painful than what happens as a mundane part of
every day.
This storm will ensure we remember our last night in Massa
Macinaia. If it had just been another
beautiful day in paradise, what’s to remember about that?
We won’t forget this night. Mary had left her bedroom window
open – she had hailstones on her bed and a river on the floor. Water is coming in under the kitchen door and
the doors where I’ve sat all these days so blissfully writing have streams of
water running down the grout lines.
We took glasses of wine out to the covered front porch on
the east side of the house to watch the storm. Wind and rain drove us inside.
We saw water pooling under the kitchen door – wind was driving it in from the
west side. It’s coming at us from all directions!
It may or may not clear in time for us to walk up the hill
for pizza. History says yes; storms pass quickly here. But as they say in the
financial world, the past is no predictor of the future. We hope we get supper.
Meanwhile, we pour another glass of wine, eat the last
cheese in the house, and spend a memorable last night in our beautiful home in
Italy.
Ciao!
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