This Cruelty of Climate

Let a man walk ten miles steadily on a hot summer's day along a dusty English road, and he will soon discover why beer was invented. — Gilbert K. Chesterton

So here we are, back in Sicily now these past couple of months, trying our best to return to some semblance of normalcy (walking the Camino has a way of making whatever felt normal before feel less so. Maybe even non-essential). It's a task neither too difficult nor too easy, just something to be done. Like running an errand on a busy day.

One of our children has been here with us so that's made it easier for us to tamp this feeling down, but now she has left and we are faced with the question: What's next? How does life change after walking the camino, if at all?

Summer though. Not really the best season for making changes. Am I right? Georgia O'Keefe once said that she spent summer doing nothing but waiting for herself to be herself again. And we get it. What might she say about summers in Sicily? Lampedusa compared it to the long glum winters of Russia.

If that dismal image weren't enough to put on hold any idea of meaningful work, he goes on to write: "if a Sicilian worked hard in any of those months he would expend energy enough for three; then water is either lacking altogether or has to be carried from so far that every drop is paid for by a drop of sweat; and then the rains, which are always tempestuous and set dry river beds to frenzy, drown beasts and men on the very spot where two weeks before both had been dying of thirst." 

So to put it simply, we're not, we're just not. The question of what might/could/should change is complicated enough with adding a plethora of sweat. So for the next few weeks we're planning to lay low, stay inside mostly, binge watching television, rearranging cabinets and drawers and such, and practicing guitar.

To inspire your own leisure time, we recommend the Leopard himself in this limited series.

That said, I won't be going away completely. I hope to have some more chapters soon of my novel, The Dead Lion, and more thoughts on turning 60.

Thanks for reading and for sticking with me. You may not believe it based on my publication schedule but writing and sharing my thoughts here brings me more pleasure than you can imagine. I am so very grateful that you each are a part of it.

Have a great rest of your summer!

Coda:

I feel the need now to balance Lampedusa's sour sense of summer with something a little more filled with love...

Alla prossima,

Steve