Archive for May, 2009

memorial day

May 26, 2009

woodstock memorial day parade

Originally uploaded by nonsonoitaliana

beautiful day, all sunshine and time with dad/grandaddy.
today amalia and i are both sick with colds.
going to do more printing out in the studio with mom.
but first, another cup of coffee!


quilting round table

May 24, 2009

quilting round table

Originally uploaded by nonsonoitaliana

she thought everyone
was there just for her
and she laughed and laughed
the whole hour.


May 21, 2009


Originally uploaded by nonsonoitaliana

So long when new,
now just brief pudges
accenting the columnar legs,
with sharp, peeling nails
im afraid to cut,
push, push pushing
against the ground,
against me,
against anything,
against everything
in the struggle to stand,
in the struggle to move,
in the struggle to move forward.

Garden Update

May 15, 2009

Brennan’s garden

Originally uploaded by nonsonoitaliana

Worked in Brennan’s garden some yesterday (accompanied by a standing Amalia).

Lots of time to reflect on my own garden, on all the mistakes already made (new manure burning my seedlings), on all the plans already gone awry (melons and three kinds of beans and all kinds of flowers STILL waiting to be planted!). . . on my absolute inability to micromangae the growth and development of this dream of mine.

I never realized my need for control, my tendency towards perfection-ism, until Amalia’s birth. My journey since then, these past six months, has so much been about learning to let go a bit.

A good bit. But still just a bit. I mean, I am still ME.

So, my reflections are also on how in a few short months this funny garden of mine has changed my life, my relationship with my child, my community, my present and my future. How beautiful it is to me, not because of straight rows, lush growth or any such thing but rather because I am so completely in love with the process of it, the DOING of it.

And so there is no update, I’ve decided, because the list of what I have done is not nearly so important as the simple fact that I am often there doing what I can, being present and working, involving Amalia and making connections with the people and place that are mine, at least for now.

Six Months

May 12, 2009

mothers day

Originally uploaded by nonsonoitaliana

She eats broccolli, bannana, apple, pear, avocado on toast, pasta and beans and rice.
She scoots with great speed after things like cameras, phones and computers.
She had her second vaccinations and screamed bloody murder.
She had her first cold, much to her parents’ chagrin.
She made her first international flight.
She has become more patient with car travel.
She sits well on her own.
She holds both her feet.
Sometimes she sucks her thumb.
She bends forward and stretches quite far to reach things.
She likes to stand up, holding on to hands or stools or boxes or tables.
She likes to take things out of a basket and scatter them all around.
She likes to talk on the phone with papa’.
She is fascinated by her cousin Hallman.
She checks to make sure you are watching when she does something she’s proud of.
And then she smiles and laughs.
She grunts with excitement, a woof-woofing noise.
She cackles and squeals and coos and yells and whines and cries and sobs and mumurs.
When she cries she says, “mumm mumm mumm,” and breaks my heart.
When she first wakes up she lies in bed and coos and smiles and holds her feet and snuggles with papa’.
She is fabulous.
She is beautiful.
She is funny.
She is watchful.
She is curious.
She is Amalia.
She is Molly.

Amalia Amalia Amalia

“When Mother Reads Aloud”

May 10, 2009

grandma reading

Originally uploaded by nonsonoitaliana

from “Favorite Poems Old and New”

When Mother reads aloud, the past
Seems real as every day;
I hear the tramp of armies vast,
I see the spears and lances cast,
I join the trilling fray;
Brave knights and lasies fair and proud
I meet when Mother reads aloud.

When Mother reads aloud, far lands
Seem very near and true;
I cross the desert’s gleaming sands,
or hunt the jungle’s prowling bands,
Or sail the ocean blue.
Far heights, whose peaks the cold mists shroud,
I scale, when Mother reads aloud.

When Mother reads aloud, I long
For noble deeds to do-
To help the right, redress the wrong;
It seems so easy to be strong,
So simple to be true,
O, thick and fast the visions crowd
My eyes, when Mother reads aloud.

Here now

May 9, 2009

Grandma, Amalia and Willy

Originally uploaded by nonsonoitaliana

We are here, have been for four days. I think four days anyway- it’s all kind of blurry. A happy blur, tinged a little bittersweet because Ilario isn’t with us.

The trip was just plain old fine. Endless (18 hours door to door) but fine. I ran into a woman I knew and worked with in Cleveland, and she helped pass the last two hours on the plane. Lucky, that.

Amalia has been sick with a bad cold, on top of being out of sorts from the time change and location change and people change. She misses her papa’, she has difficulty breathing with her stuffy nose, her voice is raspy and low and she’s a bit cranky BUT she’s in love with her cousins and auntie, thrilled to be reunited with her grandma and soaking up her granddaddy’s sugar.

I am going to bed RIGHT NOW.

the unexpected

May 1, 2009

River Adda

Originally uploaded by nonsonoitaliana

who knew i would have a father-in-law who would spend hours cutting sturdy saplings in the woods for me to build supports for my tomatoes and beans?

who knew i would have a mother-in-law who when asked if she wanted to try carrying her granddaughter in the sling would act as if she had been waiting for me to ask her just that for ages?

who knew i would have a husband who i hear sweet-talking, laughing and kissing his baby in bed on the weekends while i drink my coffee in the kitchen?

who knew that the elderly signora whose garden i am working this year, who i thought was so suspicious of me and my strange ways, would lean close and tell me i am doing exactly right keeping my baby close and letting her know i love her?

who knew that one day while walking with amalia i would be stopped by an elderly woman carrying groceries and speaking only bergamascan, and we would have an entire conversation about everything on earth, her in dialect and i in italian, and i would look into her eyes and see my grandmother?

who knew?