Brown...
What is going on? Has to be a phase. I feel perennially derailed. Been doing it for the last few weeks. But by what? Things…
This morning… a bright, sunny, clear Summer’s day and, no better climatic conditions for a much neglected w-a-l-k with the Dog in the woods above the Acqua Paradiso spring… when the iPhone rang. The seamstress, who is making new covers for the cushions on the sofas nel Salotto of La Casa Grande, using a fabric much hated by a client…
of a lovely antique Cognac colour in a brushed silk & wool velvet…
This Red was it.
I and a Professional American Interior Designer were commissioned by the client to find a fabric for in her BR in her Tuscan Tower. We selected & charged to her American Express una stoffa found in a fantastic fabric remnants store in the historic depths of old Genoa. The client would not, could not abide by the colour. It’s Brown, guys. Who in the World likes Brown? No sense in arguing it was Cognac, and a predominant accent colour off the Oriental carpet and curvilinear upholstered furniture in the BR of her Tuscan Tower. Admittedly, we had gotten it wrong. Discovered too late the client is an adherent to the ID Philosophy… Pick one colour and do the shit out of it. Cognac wasn’t it. Red was.
Whereas, I and the Professional American Interior Designer were team partners and enthusiastic proponents of a contrary ID Philosophy… The more colours, the merrier the room will be. The words chicer or, interesting, may be exchanged for Merrier. You may also need to add a more. Two distinct ID worlds counter-rotating against each other. OK. I was handed the bag with the despised fabric. Better still.
By the middle of next week, the sofas will be sporting the lovely antique Cognac in a brushed silk & wool velvet on their bolsters, pillows and mattress covers. Evviva!!! Well, once the seamstress has worked herself past the zipper crisis. The old covers were scratched to pieces… to Death works too… by the very effective talons of Nina-beena… may she RIP, Dear Pet… and The Croesus-person too, who had contributed to their cover’s destruction. Today, the Big Boy is the only Dog on the premises. He matured considerably during the COVID-19 Lockdown to become a relatively respectful canine of il Poggiolo’s Furniture & Furnishings. Bless the Lord.
So much for the w-a-l-k with the Dog. We made a very quick pee-pee and woo-woo stop on the way to forestall grave zipper hysterics. The seamstress was relieved to see me. Oddly enough, the Dog had figure out the hurry so, he hurried too. Thank you, Puppy. Come here. And he did.
Back at Poggiolo HQ, I discovered today is Thursday, Blog Post Day. Since February, I have had difficulty with the age old question… What day is it? Lockdowns can do it to you. Oh! How I miss those Halcyon Days of Peace, Quiet & Tranquility in Codiponte. Moving onwards, I had in mind something very IMPORTANT to belly-ache about on the blog but, I think I have done a bit of that already. I am so easily way-laid by controversy. And yet, I have not finished with Brown.
Poor lonesome, anti-fashion trend Brown. Who gets an alert from Pinterest that Brown is trending these days? Let us not leave it to fend for itself against the whims of ID or, Global Warming. The later another provocateur of Brown. It’s the colour in vogue here at il Poggiolo. In the garden. A yearly event. Damn-it. As the Wise Ones said once… There is a season for green grass and there’s another for brown grass. Guess which one is on today?
Every Summer I feel obligated to mention our Brown grass. It’s an outrage. My dear paternal grandmother fought long &. hard to keep her grassy lawns green in hot & humid South Carolina. I should be able to do the very same in hot & humid Italy. Every year, I think I will be capable of forestalling the deterioration of Green into Brown. But, alas, n’er a hint of a proclamation of success. Thanks so much to a certain recalcitrant individual…
Several years ago, the neighbour-signora in the Ugly Yellow House offered… if I paid her… access to her illegal water source. Ugly black tubes lace the territory behind the village feeding water from the little stream running along the village’s Virgin Mary Meditation Center to various citizen’s gardens. The neighbour-signora thought it might come in handy, what with all the flora You & I had planted and then lost to the lack of a proper source of H2O. Yes, originally a kind offer. I said… Si, signora… and forked over a bunch of Euros, so then, her builder son, Pirate Boy Toy, could put in the direct connection. You dislikes him. He once did work for us at Il Poggiolo but, You thinks he cheated on the quality of the materials used to make a few extra centesimi off of us. All of the stone walls Pirate Boy Toy built are crumbling from too much sand in the chintzy cement. Live & learn. But back to his Pirate mother… from that moment on and despite the fact that I had paid the woman, she turns the water off if she thinks any of Codiponte’s residents suspect I am watering il Poggiolo’s garden from her… I thought it was ours… illegal water source OR, that I am wasting the water. WHAT??? Just last week, unable to resist suspicions, she turned off our tap. I am now witnessing a horrible and perennial problem… creeping Brown in our garden.
It’s not easy. La Signora talks. She does not listen. Problema Numero Uno. That might actually be two problems. If La Signora would, could, might listen to me, then, she would hear from my Anglo-Saxon-living-in-Italy lips the confirmation that EVERYONE IN CODIPONTE KNOWS ABOUT HER ILLEGAL WATER SOURCE!!! And why? BECAUSE THEY TOO ALL HAVE AN ILLEGAL WATER SOURCE. Or, the same denizens just out-right steal water by pumping from the Aulella River. A Big No-No. It’s against The Law too. Very Italian to suspect your neighbours are bad-mouthing you yet, are doing the same. Snitching on you is the consequent segue. Sul punto secondo della signore, watering a garden is not wasting water. Wasting would be not to use it. A simple concept and beyond la Signora’s comprehension. Or, her ability to listen. She just waters her miserable collection of potted plants and is done. 30 minutes max. I have a two hour adventure to water what needs sprayed by a water hose in il Poggiolo’s garden… potted and/or earthed. In the meantime, her source has no ON-OFF. Why, I have no idea. There’s s one for our attachment. How convenient. Since the nieghbour-signora has no ON-OFF valve, she just lets the water run back into the little stream… could be something about maintaining suction, do you think?… out into the Aulella River, which passes by our village of Codiponte, and then, into the Magra River and the Mediterranean Sea beyond. Ta-daaaaa!!!
So, Brown is it.
An aside… using the public water system in Codiponte… called Gaia… is God-awful for plants and fish. Too much chlorine and other unknown chemicals. Can’t drink the water either after it rains. The bills are whoppingly high. And, imagine this… what it does to your Life paying an IVA or, VAT, of 22% on everything you do, or buy, or pay for, or purchase ,or charge or, or, or… of 22%. Browns your budget out for sure.
Parched Earth...
Archive post June 20, 2019…
I’m going to be up-front with you all… that faucet in the left-hand photo is illegal. Possibly, not really. Maybe, yes. Perhaps, unlikely. Hey! We’re in Italy. World of greys.
Gaia, the infamous Water Company in these parts, turns a blind eye to such breaches. And good that they do. Risk of a rebellion. High quotient of vegetable gardens needing watering in the Lunigiana. And the flower garden dear to one lone American over in the corner.
The other photos demonstrate the current state of Mother’s Earth at the garden of il Poggiolo… if it had more water, it would mature all the better… and of her precious Plant Life. Grass and trees. A fledgling cherry tree planted three years ago tragically bit the dust just days after someone BIG, and unidentified, found the switch to turn up the Daily Max Temperatures three weeks ago. Poor thing had not grown its roots down to where the wet is. Meters below, these days. We have about a yard of what appears to be soil posing as cement. Severe Drought Phase Numero Uno. We have not had a regular, consistent and deep soaking rainfall since 2014. Yep. I am a believer. It’s Global Warming. Access to any source of water is of dire importance… for all of us.
I paid good Euro’s for that faucet and the water connection from it to the stream below a next-door neighbor’s house. That same neighbor… she lives in the G*d-awful yellow house which glows at night it’s so yellow… invited us to join along with the other select members to have access to the semi-illegal aqueduct. Not sure money was exchanged between the others since, they are all family. That’s Italy.
Weirdly, the same stream provides the water Gaia accesses and then charges us their astronomical prices for H2O. We don’t drink Gaia’s water. And, we don’t water our plants with it either. Showers… military showers only!!!… and the dishwasher. Why? Ain’t safe. The stream water is shoddily filtered in a large concrete tank up stream a ways. When it rains, water out of our taps is brown. Not my favourite colour. Just to tell you. The spill-over flows right on over the open top of the tank and into the stream. A very minute amount runs into the tube for which I paid a mighty sum. Got it? Easy Math. Up ahead, it becomes really difficult for someone.
The arrangement at the moment of passing Euro’s into the hands of the neighbor was: She waters at night, We by day. OK. Fine. No problem. You & I know how to follow rules, treaties, agreements, etc. Another, apparently not. The neighbor used to barrel through a breach in our prickly hedge to turn off our faucet, so she could water her Plant Life… at 8 in the morning!!! That stunt irritated You no end. Since one the custom is acquired, never is it relinquished. And that is the Law!!! No kidding. Possession is 9/10th’s the Law. When the Dog Fence was installed last Fall, she had her cute, cute, cute boy-toy builder son install a Master Faucet. Now, she just conveniently turns off the communal water at the Main, steps from her front door. I discovered this little convenience when we met on the ramp to the Medieval Bridge two days ago…
by the way, work on restoring the Medieval Bridge has been suspended by the Culture Police. Uncertainty as to what to do next. I know but was not at all consulted. You is furious. He wasn’t consulted either. But that is not why he’s mad. Says the C.P.’s are idiots. I have an opinion on that assessment too but, it would not be helpful. Barely a bridge remains until.
Kindly enquiring of the neighbor why we have had no water from our faucet, the woman said we had been watering too much. Not good. We must water less. We have to conserve! What? But, Dear Signora, if the over-flow runs out of the tank and into the stream… and only a minute amount flows into our collective tube… and the rest… THE LARGER PART!!!… flows into a river, and another river, and still yet another river, to then flow into the Mediterranean Sea, how does one conserve… water? Her reply? We water too much. Basta! And she continued on to wherever. Am I crazy here? I think not. There is No Debate.
What will happen… a someone BIG will intercede… is the stream, as it does traditionally every Summer, will dry-up. There! Conservation done. For us and for everyone else too. A strange sort of vindication. And that folks is Italy too!