pipistrello is my favorite word.

So the rain has come. And with it the funghi. And with the funghi, the old men and women walking slowly and purposefully through the woods and meadows with their baskets.
The house has been full the past 2 weeks, with Iris's parents and weekend guests and friends - a thoroughly pleasant dance of work and food and drink and language and stories. Both Gianluca and Iris, as well as Iris's parents, have all worked for the International Red Cross at various times over the past 20 years. It seems that they have been on the ground of nearly every major conflict during that time - Croatia, Somalia, Israel, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Kosovo, etc. In fact Gianluca declined an offer to go to Yemen last week because the solar panels weren't yet finished. Incredible stories, told over the dinner table in about 5 different languages. Maybe a seed has been planted for future adventures.
Other than that, I am completely geeked out on the cows here - all sleek muscle and horn and contemplation. I can watch them endlessly. And little surprises like an early Sunday morning walk up to a foggy neighboring village just in time for church to finish - out come the old ladies, arm in arm, huddled together in the grey, practically waddling down the winding street while the fog settles in the valley.