The backyard is about back to normal. The backhoe and its kind, competent driver have left, the new septic system is installed and fully functioning, and the lawn is waiting to be graded and seeded. Hopefully that will take place next week.
    Although this project generated a great deal of activity, calmness prevailed, due in large measure to the caring work crew and the necessity of the job. I am reminded once again that silence and solitude are states of mind, and that even complex activities can be done simply.

    All is back to normal; at least our home routine, but not the backyard. Today trucks are dumping sand for the leaching field, the electrician will hook up the septic system to the house, and the ground will be leveled. By tomorrow grass will be planted and those big dirt piles will only be a memory.
     All of this outside activity doesn’t get in the way of my solitude--thankfully truck noise doesn’t bother me. After a weekend of kids and grandkids I am back to writing, “Seven Days Writing in Florence” is the current title of this travel article. If you have ideas of where to send it, please let me know.

We can’t always get the precise amount of solitude we crave. I choose the word crave, not want, because it indicates a stronger longing, something we can’t do without. Even in the midst of all the good stuff in our lives, some of us can’t get enough time alone. I’m not talking about an hour here or there, but days on end.
Of course not everyone likes solitude, but I figure that most of you reading this blog have an inkling of what I’m talking about. There are the extroverts who get their life energy from others, while introverts are energized through solitude. And yet, I don’t think it is a simple question of extrovert or introvert. I am both, although at this time my life, I’m more of an introvert, having satisfied my extroverted self during my parenting and teaching career days.
I’m writing about this because this morning I looked out the window and wished I were talking an early morning walk around Florence. I’ve been home a little over a week, and already I’m longing for that special time alone in that special place. Twelve days is long enough, but I’d like to go more often, say every month.
Sometimes we can’t have exactly what we want. I know that. But we must do what we can to satisfy our longings. We can start by acknowledging how we feel.

The installation of the new septic system continues.  Two guys working away. They know what they are doing, which is of great comfort. In fact I feel calm knowing that this will be done and done well. Life feels simpler, especially if we decide to move. And if we stay here forever, won’t our kids be very grateful that we have taken care of this?

Don’t expect silence or solitude while putting in a new septic system. And forget about simplicity, especially in  our situation. A bulldozer spent today grading a trail up the hill, around the barn to the back yard, where the new state-of-the-art, up-to-code system will be installed.

Casa Guida, home of Robert and Elizabeth Browning in Florence.

Irises going wild in the English Cemetery while Elizabeth Browning rests.

    Thoughts about coffee on way home from Florence, via Frankfurt, to Boston.
      Note to Self: Upon entering the Florence airport, do not ever again pay 2 euro for a cappuccino, even if you are in desperate need of caffeine. Instead, take the escalator up one floor, check in, go through security (both of which are a snap in Florence), walk through the Duty Free area to the waiting lounge. and pay 1.20 euro.
     Speaking of the cost of coffee, prices have risen since I was in Florence three months ago. There are fewer and fewer place to get a cappuccino for 1.20. In fact, 1.30 is becoming a good deal. Those places with fancy, contemporary facelifts have the jumped their prices to 1.50. So, step away from the main tourist streets and fight inflation.
     Why do I bring this up? I can afford the increase, but I like to live frugally when I can. I usually don’t do the math, but I do with coffee. An increase of .60 euro for two cups a day comes to 4.20 euro for the week. That’s an added $4.75 for coffee. As far as buying coffee in the States, I make it at home. if I buy one large cup a day at the Dunkin’ Donuts a day, I’m heading toward spending $1000 a year. Hey, that’s an airline ticket to Florence.
      Please don’t suggest that when I’m in Italy I brew my coffee before I set out to walk the streets. It’s not the same, and besides, I’m on vacation.

       I’m here at my new favorite café for early morning writing. It has that old Italian café flavor, which I appreciate more and more as cafes throughout the city receive a modern facelift. In fact, I’ve become a regular here; the barista brings my usual order to my table.
I most cherish traveling alone in the morning, which is a solitary time for me when I need to be on my own. Up with my 6:30 alarm, I’m out of the apartment by 7, without a precise plan of where I’ll go, other than find a cappuccino and a church to center myself for the day.
      I suppose I could negotiate this with a traveling companion, but one of the beauties of being by myself is that all kinds of logistical discussions, which are an essential and part of travel, aren’t present—where and when to eat, what to visit, when to call it a day. Of course I discuss these things with myself, but the conversations are brief and I always get to do what I want. My only compromise is with my other self.
     This leads me to another benefit of solitary travel, which may be particular to my situation because I come so often to this very familiar place. I spend as much of the day as possible without a plan, figuring that the more I plan, the more ‘obligations’ I put on myself. And that is precisely what I want to leave at home. All the good stuff of family, friends, and church becomes the very impetus to live in the present moment when I come here.

Seventy-two degrees, sunny. Enough said from the Bardini Gardens.

And  a few more favorites from today.