As I write this I’m looking out my window in
Pennsylvania at a field of ice.
First there was snow, covered by freezing rain, warmed by the sun a little, frozen down again, and what we have now is a landscape that looks like flows of white lava, frozen in place. I love it.
I’ve always loved living in the northeastern
United States, where I can experience picture postcard perfect representations of each season, exactly as they were meant to be.
Now let’s jump across the ocean to Stresa, Italy. L'inverno, the winter, is much the same there as here. It’s cold, there’s snow now and then. The summer crowds are gone, the beaches are closed, and the gardens on Isola Madre and at Villa Taranto lie dormant. There are the palm trees along the lake, however, the only item which seems so out of place to me. To my thinking they should have been boxed up in September, packed away in a warm warehouse somewhere until April. I worry about them. Well, comunque, anyway, palm trees apart, it’s winter. Which means that in Stresa, this is a season to ski, to visit museums, or to catch the annual sale days in Milan. It’s time to try some famous caldo cioccolata, brasato and polenta, and warm up in a natural hot springs spa. Over the next few weeks I’ll write about several of these places. Spring and summer will be back soon enough, for now, I say let’s have us some winter fun.
As I write this I’m looking out my window in 