Two days ago I read a lovely post from Dan, in his amazing blog, Vacant mind, about his love for winter.
I was born on a cold Italian winter, does it mean anything? I have noticed that some of my friends who were born in summertime are meteoropathic: they need the sun. A cloudy or a cold day makes them feel depressed or, in the best case, low energy. I love rain, I love autumn and also winter. When I was living in Tuscany on a rainy night I would go to bed, under my feather duvet and listen to the rain symphony till I fell asleep. It is an ancestral music that touches the strings of my soul. I feel really connected to the nature. I love wearing warm clothes and going out to walk in the cold. And then come back home, in the warmth of the nest. I love cooking soups, hot chocolate, baking; all those things create the unique atmosphere of my winter. And the scents…They are not the same as in summer, obviously. We probably get the scents coming from the woods were we have lots of chestnuts, damp fallen leaves and mushrooms. Have you had a risotto with Italian porcini mushrooms (wild mushrooms)? Or polenta with bolognaise sauce and porcini mushrooms? It is an ecstasy for the palate. So when I go back to Italy I always put a bag of dried porcini mushrooms in my luggage. What make winter special to me it is also the soft hues of colours that the nature offers us. The sun it is never strong or aggressive it is there just to caress softly our faces. The trees have lost their leaves, witnessing a cycle that will never end. The sky is there, relaxed and lazy, over our heads. I can see it, I can touch it.
I can smell when it is going to snow. There is a particular scent that I can recognize and one day later it is snowing. And that is happiness. I started to ski when I was three years old and what I remember of those privileged holidays is the feeling of freedom and happiness. And the immensity of those high mountains. I felt a small speck comparing to them. I loved skiing so much, even being that little, that I used to launch myself down the slopes without the ski sticks (very bothering accessory…) straight down to the end of the slope. No hat, no gloves only the cold wind in my hair. Once I decided to go on my own, because I knew the slopes very well (I was an experienced skier of 5 years old) so off I went, enjoying the freedom and the mountains. I actually shook off my father, who was in charge of me. He was not really happy. Then I got lost, because that is what happens to a 5 years freedom-seeker skier. Everybody was really worried but, I don’t remember how, I managed to find my way back. It was dark, the experienced ski trainers (coach? teacher?) were looking for me with torches, the wolves were howling (yes, there were wolves on those mountains) my mother was frozen desperate holding my sister’s hand, at the bottom of the slope. Then I thought what is happening? Why all those people are here? Oh here there is mum and Betty, and dad. Why is he walking up and down so nervously? So I launched myself down at the highest speed I could. I don’t remember being punished or reproached in a bad way. I was happy to be back to my family and have the sweetest hot chocolate. Probably the reproached one was my father how could you “lose” you child? But please find me a father who never got distracted and lost his child at the playground or in the supermarket. This is another topic for a future post.
Love & rainbow
Up until today I thought Ben was a little nuts - he grew up in Montreal Canada and also "claims" to be able to smell the snow arriving. Well, either there is something to this olfactory skill - or you are both nuts! ;-)
ReplyDeleteI can smell it in the air: I can compete with Ben not only driving madly in town (avoiding the taxis) !
ReplyDeleteHey I have got your comment, eureka!
XXX