Today is the last door post from Torre Alfina, visited last autumn on the Last Day I Saw Something New. My poem – which is a haibun – explores the symbolism surrounding Tuscany.
Prompt 22: “Today I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that invokes a specific object as a symbol of a particular time, era, or place.“
I decided to tackle the entire symbolism that surrounds Tuscany, where I live, with the following haibun (basically, a block of prose followed by a haiku).
Tuscany Eyebrow-raising. Envy-inducing. Assumption of riches. No wonder that disappointments come easily. “I thought you lived in a villa.” “This doesn’t seem like typical Tuscany! No cypress trees?” Maybe because Tuscany ends 15 minutes away. Imagine living in Lazio. It would have a completely different ring to it. Mistakes: “Ah, Tuscany! I was travelling around Alicante a lot when I lived in France.” Or, the favourite: “Where are now your famous lavender fields?” We have poppies, remember? Alicante is Spain. Lavender is Provence. Provence is France. They plop “Tuscany” on products to raise the price. Priceless poppies laugh.
In photos first this one, just in. Sister sends this lovely shot from Maribor, Slovenia, saying: “They say it’s Thursday.”
And now, who says that it must always be Tuscany? This is the last post in my Torre Alfina door series which begins with this post. So far we have climbed to the top of the castle with a lovely but closed door and now we return down to the town.
It was October 30th 2020, the Last Day I Saw Something New. I packed my dog and we drove to Lazio to visit this castle town that I hadn’t even heard mentioned before. It happens all the time. The entire Italy is packed with beauty, not only Tuscany.
But the truth is that in such golden light everything would look pretty. Just look at these autumn leaves!
This day in my NaPoWriMo history (2018):
When will the pigs fly? “I’m going to write a poem about le porchette che volano,” I announce and he smiles. He smiles a lot these days. I know why. He is disassembling and reassembling room by room. There is stuff everywhere but there is method to the madness. The smell of cleaning agents calms him. The aisle with home care products is his favourite part of a shop. He gave a salmon paint-over to the smallest and most concealed space in our home and left the light on to illuminate it just because it’s so pretty. His zest brushes off and Manja – the uncareful and discareless one (who rushes off to write down these two words announcing that she is bound to do this sort of thing more often now that she’s a poet) first knocked down two mattresses that knocked down an open tub of paint that splashed all over (you get the idea) just trying to help, and today spent her Sunday cleaning the bedroom of her own free will. Her mom knows. One time she called Manja and asked her what she was up to and Manja replied “I’m buying a broom.” Obviously it happened then and now it’s happening again. Le porchette volano. The pigs fly.