#100 happy days - days eleven to twenty.

I am really enjoying this mini-project.  Turns out there are a lot of things making me happy each day, the challenge is narrowing it down to which one is the one most worth remembering.  What a good place to be in life!

Day 11 - handstamped letter writing paper



Day 12 - a moment to draw (these days 10 minutes feels like a lifetime, I live for nap time!)



Day 13 - the winter trees are up in Faelen's nursery - warm nesting required here :)




Day 14 - being recognised as someone who has 'favourite weevils'



Day 15 - a year ago today I found out I was pregnant. We've come a long way since!



Day 16 - the perfect child who slept through the flight despite a man with halitosis next to us!

Day 17 - golden hour in my Nonna's kitchen
Day 18 - siesta time with the lord of the land



Day 19 - prosecco at lunch time? Well, when in Umbria....
Day 20 - a quiet last morning in Umbria

on viking heritage and speaking english slowly.

Saying you have a quarter Italian heritage is laughable.  I mean, then I should probably mention that, from long ago, I probably have about a millionth Scandinavian from an old Viking conquest not to mention my old Anglo-Saxon ancestry.  So yes, I do ask for my coffee in slightly louder English and I totally have to shoot panicked expressions at my Nonna every time someone talks to me in the hope she will translate, but I still don't feel like a tourist in Bevagne in the same way I do in other towns and cities, even in England.

I think it has something to do with the way Nonna prepares the town for our arrival.  As she gleefully informed me, she has told everyone about becoming a great-grandmother (or Bisnonna).  I realised last week, she hadn't been exaggerating.  
Everywhere we walked, someone stopped to talk to Faelen.  Whilst waiting outside of a shop for Nonna to buy bread for lunch, two women I have never seen before approached me, talking at me (my inability to speak Italian is seen as no barrier to holding a conversation) and stroked Faelen's hair and squished his cheeks.  They clearly knew us.  At the restaurant at lunchtime, not only did the waitresses coo over him but the head chef left her post to come and visit Faelen; waking him up to ruffle his hair and talk Italian at him until he beamed.

So I may not be Italian, and Faelen's heritage is even further diluted, but we were certainly welcomed into the small town of Bevagne. 
And that is it, I promise I am now done on over sharing pictures from my holiday last week!  

food, glorious (endless) food.

The egg on the left is from a very normal sized chicken.  Wince.

Only when visiting my Nonna could it be possible that my camera contains more photographs of food than of Faelen!  Our days there truly revolve around food.  

As we drink our morning coffee we discuss lunch.  My Nonna is a wonderful cook (I am sure it is part of the job description of an Italian Grandmother) - just look at that baccala and tomato stew below.  But if we aren't working out what to buy from the market, we are working out how best to coordinate transport to the chosen restaurant.
As we eat lunch we discuss wine and menus, chefs and cooks, and reminisce about favourite meals and lunch time companions from previous years.  
After lunch, we briefly comment how we never need eat again before figuring out whether or not we will need bread to go with the cheese and greens planned for supper.  
After supper, it would be churlish not to have a small slice of cake or a square of dark chocolate with hazelnuts.
Then as we sit by the fire in the evening, it is time to discuss what we might do for food tomorrow - after all, it is good to be prepared.

 

Weed salad - dandelion and chicory leaves amongst others to be steamed and served with oil and lemon juice.

 

Baccala - mounds of salt cod

wild asparagus hunting.

One day, after a particularly large lunch at the Mulinetta, we were taken on a hunt for wild asparagus. Excitedly, and with Faelen asleep in the sling, we scoured up and down the prickly banks for the secretive shoots.  

Normally my visits are in August and the ground is burnt and golden.  Walking after lunch is certainly not advisable, instead siestas are taken, hiding from the sun behind shutters.  This time though, the ground was green, the almond trees were blossoming and we walked for an hour without breaking a sweat or blistering.

Admittedly I didn't find a single shoot.  I am painfully unobservant.  I found several twigs that for an elated moment I thought were asparagus, but ultimately not a single edible morsel.  My mother forgot her glasses, so there was no hope there - I was pretty much just impressed she was able to walk in a straight line!  Consequently my Aunt was solely responsible for the haul - all seven weedy shoots.  Perhaps in a couple months it will be more impressive!

Hardly worth poaching an egg for.

four generations, one roof and a bidet.

I am back from Italy.  Last week was wonderful and exhausting in equal measures.  Travelling with a baby was an insane juggling act, which without my mother around to carry coats, organise passports and buy pizzette, I don't know how I would have managed.  Not to mention her saving the day from the attempted car-seat theft palaver (turns out I am not too proud to still shout mum very loudly in an airport in times of crisis).

I feel so lucky to have had a week of four generations under one roof.  My Nonna sang Faelen Piedmontese drinking songs and tickled his chubby belly for hours.  And, perfectly, Faelen smiled every time he spied her.  We had time to read, to sit by the fire in the evenings and talk, to drink coffee and to eat more cheese than I thought possible.  It was a bubble of family time uninterrupted by the real world, jobs and to do lists.  



It is good to be home again though.  Back to James helping with the night duties and, because I am just that exciting, back to having a washing machine (travelling with a babe and only hand-luggage is madness)!  

And, to finish on my favourite picture of the week.  Below is Faelen enjoying bathtime in the bidet, a long honoured family tradition for all babies descended from the Fenoglio name!

see you at the weekend!

So me and this little dude are off visiting his great-grandmother in Italy this week.  At the time this scheduled post makes its appearance, I will no doubt have a cappucino in one hand, a brioche con crema in the other (I am anticipating family members will hold Faelen whilst I indulge) and, in all likelihood, be talking about what's for lunch.  I cannot wait.

Now, just to get through the flight first....

the winter woodland nursery.

This weekend we have been trying to pull Faelen's nursery together.  It was on my list to do pre-baby but, somewhere between moving house and growing to the size of a house, it got forgotten, so for the last four months it has vaguely resembled a nursery-themed-landfill site.

Faelen still sleeps in our room but, in preparation for the inevitable transition, this weekend was spent painstakingly peeling, sticking and burnishing the enormous winter tree decals onto the walls, bickering over the perfect placement of the white birds and generally tea drinking and admiring our handiwork.  

The tree decals were bought from Etsy as a genius solution to the conundrum of decorating a nursery in rented accommodation.  They look pretty dramatic in the room and will simply peel away when we leave (supposedly)!  

The winter tree photograph (second from last photo, on the left) is a photograph of mine and James' favourite haunt in Cardiff - Bute Park.  We spent so many of our days off (and procrastination days during exams) in that park, it seemed like the perfect piece of Cardiff to place in our new home.  We made it using a blueprint from Staples, tutorials and suggestions for which seem to be populating the blogosphere.  I will include a better picture of it when I finally manage to find a way of fixing it to the wall!

For rented property, this room really feels like it is ours (all except for that bloody beige carpet)!  I spent an enjoyable long while tucked up on the small sofa this afternoon, nursing Faelen and watching the rain.  A week ago, I could barely push open the door against the chaos.  Whilst we still have more plans for this little space, it already is starting to resemble to winter woodland I was hoping for.