just another brunello in chianti country

Have you ever had a weekend unfold itself around you? 

First, there was a walk in the countryside with a friend as the sun was setting and highlighting the hills. This was on the edge of Chianti country. The vineyards are really just beginning there. That was followed by watching 4 short plays in Italian.

The next day was the San Gimignano and Siena trip with the study center. They make a fresh pasta in Siena that is very thick and covered in goodness and one of my favorite meals. I stood out over one of the fortressed walls of San Gimignano drinking a Vernaccio and contemplated with a colleague the happiness derived from the color green. Somehow the evening back into Florence brought about witnessing another sunrise and an invitation for a picnic.

Saturday evening I went out with the guys. That is something you should all know. I have only guy friends here now. Hanging out with some of them makes me seriously doubt the future state of mankind, but I digress. Still a fun evening with fantastic jazz and lots of laughter. And political debate, I am practicing paying attention again. (Girls, please send me estrogen thoughts, the testosterone may kill me.)

And Sunday was the picnic. But the picnic took place in Greve and Radda in Chianti with Pete and Marco (two of the good guys) and lasted about 5 hours. Marco drove us out there, made us a lovely meal, took us to an enoteca, and didn't drink anything because he was driving. After zipping around those curves, I appreciated his restraint. The Queen, as I'm known to Marco, was pleased. Especially when I finally was able to sample a brunello. Ah, brunello — you break my heart with your beauty and price-tag.

So it was a good weekend. And I just had to show up, observe, and watch the green of late Spring (which is everything) slip by.  

3 responses to “just another brunello in chianti country

  1. What is an enoteca? Don’t get so lost in the Italian that you forget that we may not get the reference. There–some bitchy estorgen induced femaleness. Happy?

  2. was seeking something more soulful
    enoteca — wine bar (all apologies as usual)

  3. So the princess of Cameron Street is now a queen. I am so proud and you are royalty in my eyes. Lynn Staton predicted (when you were eight years old) that you would hold court with the best of them one day. When you were upset one afternoon and feeling ugly. He was sitting on the porch swing making French braids out of your uncontrollable (waist long) hair, telling you that you were going to be a classically beautiful woman, that your eyes were like black diamonds, and that your face would grow into your nose. (I think a boy had upset you with a nose comment). You were pouty, but I saw that sparkle that indicated you believed him. I believed him too! So enjoy all that testosterone, sometimes guys are true believers. How is that for an estrogen thought. Your dad will not allow you to be anything but a princess, but I agree you are the queen!

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