pushing the limits is ok, right?

Thursday was another of those days that confirm for me that I am in the right place doing what I am meant to be doing. There is something very special about helping visiting Kiwis retrace their fathers' wartime footsteps. I enjoy those days, but they leave me tired and sometimes a bit emotional, particularly when the weather is hot, the stories poignant and the visitors people I am sad to say goodbye to. At the end of that day I slept early and missed a dinner invitation, (and missed dinner!) but the body was saying "stop".

Yesterday, Friday, I dragged my still rather tired body out of bed before the alarm could go off and set off for Fontana Liri superiore at 7.30am. I was expecting to help children paint their cardboard carpet for a few hours and come home again before the heat really hit me. I dutifully loaded up the car with the required paintings and brushes to expose the kids to "live art", and I guess to give myself some street-cred, although I really don't enjoy lugging my paintings around the summer festivals at all and am selective about where I go and what I take. But this day, for children living up in the hills, I would do it.



The day ended at midnight.

That moon that I showed you at "half" seemed to be full last night as I listened to a flute and harp concert by music academy students. Ennio Morricone's Gabriel's Oboe now holds me more than Ave Maria which was later in the programme, but all the songs were magic. (These links are randomly selected from Youtube and not of last night's concert). The flute and harp combination is beautiful, and under the stars in a not-so-tiny hilltop village on a balmy evening I almost forgot the length of the day.

As the temperatures dropped to a more comfortable 26 degrees or so I came to life a bit more and enjoyed a cool beer and a panini with other artists and artisans.

A dance performance followed the flute, harp, poetry and song section, with modern and classical ballet. This ranged from excerpts from Snow White to a dramatic performance honouring Michael Jackson. I had forgotten how much I enjoy ballet. The tiny tots were delightful, and the mature students outstanding.

The poetry reading was about the strength of the mothers, and what they endured in wartime. It seems that while in many ways it is a man's world here, the youth and in fact the whole society acknowledge that their women hold families and community together and are honoured accordingly.


I finally packed up my paintings around 11.15pm and headed home, getting in the door just before midnight. If only I had been able to have a siesta in the middle of it it would have been a near-perfect day.

Today I am grateful for music and magic under the summer skies.