I'm sitting on the patio next door to my studio, where I can get wi fi access.  Today was a perfect day, and it's not half over.  I wrote all morning, a poem that may hold up under scrutiny--"What Would Baudelaire Do?"  A love poem, of course, filled with perfume. 

Ate some good crusty bread with cheese, black olives, goat and cow's milk cheese, and proscuitto.  Took a nap.  Then three of us women artists walked up the steep hill to the village, where we went to an art gallery (three floors of really good, challenging sculpture and painting), bought loaves of bread made from local wheat, two more bottles of wine (a dry local white and a 2005 red Bordeaux), and went to the post office.  As we were leaving, two local men who were working on the streets asked us if we wanted flowers.  When we said yes, they proceeded to dig up a dozen large blossoming plants from the display outside the post office.  They competed with each other to see which one could give us the  most beautiful flowers.  The colors are peach, deep purple, yellow and white, and the fragrances are heady.  We were enchanted.

The other artists are midwestern and we are still sounding each other out.  But there are no red flags, and there has been no bickering.  Lots of sharing of food and wine.  One of the women hosts a cooking show at home, Iowa City, and she's a superb chef.  Can't argue with that.

At 7:30, we will have a party here for some local folks, with bouillebase (sp?), salad, chocolate gelato (the richest).  It's our "coming out" party, introducing us to the community.

Soon I will go in and brush my hair.   My hair likes it here in the golden air.   The festive cutout decorations on the patio are lightly swaying.   We'll see which music the directrice selects.  I've got Bob Marley on the brain.

Wish you were here.  Come with me next summer!  Seriously.