The Sea by Day, Castle by Night, A day in the life...

"The sun's warm glow mingles with the salty breeze that carries the smell of the sea, and the life it fosters, to my nose. Boisterous voices exchange passionate conversations in the street and a familiar voice sings, "Nicky" off the sea-foam-green balcony. It is Dani, my sister. I must be in Sicily!"   

It has been six weeks since my arrival in Sicily, and yes I have been indulging. "Real" pizza has been a meal many times. Bathing in the Mediterranean happens in intervals of 24-hours or less. Oh, and creamy gelato has melted on my tongue and slide down my throat regularly. I have taken it from a cone, from a spoon, through a straw and smeared in the middle of sweet bread, a brioche. Although I can taste the roast in the hazelnut gelato and the pistachio flavor is sweet and salty, the dive season is coming to a close and I feel as though this island and I have shared enough, for now.    


It is rare that travel is routine, but at the dive shop I have had a daily schedule. A day in the life.... 

Each morning begins inside the "Dive Flag Tower." It is 3 levels. Stefania sleeps on the top floor and acts as my alarm as she passes the second floor to start the day.

Task 1 of the day: Prepare Tanks

When all is ready we leave land behind...

We do the work, our guests enjoy the ride

Whenever this life seems like I dream all I need to do is look to Antonio's (the Diveleader in training) arm to remind me where I am

Giovanni, my host and Divemaster, briefs the group on the dive site

"me"

After the dive and after a pasta lunch, it is time to find some shade around the shop

  

The sun falls from its peak and late afternoon arrives.  A soft sensation wakes me from a nap. I give my attention to hear the call of the plants on the hillside garden. They are asking for water.  This place is not an official WWOOF, but it surely is a Barnstorming. 

This terrace style garden is home to a grove of young trees

The fruit love the view

Maybe it's the environment, but some of the plants look like they could be found swimming in the Sea

Night creeps over the tower as blue skies fade to purple. A typical night out is a walk for gelato... 

On the way we see...

Fishing boats eager for morning's catch

Stefania as a shadow model in front of the Castle

The Castle that gives the town its name, Castellammare

On this night a music festival! 

 A lone guitarist wails overhead, in an archway 

 He belongs with this five piece group (if you include the pooch) playing, a funk like trance set, on the steps

 A fire show too...

His name is Bunda and he is from The Czech Republic

Almost forgot the point of the walk...At last

Moon light illuminates the old port town, but when the sun fills the streets I will start it all again

That is until Wednesday when I say goodbye to Sicily...

Garden Relief (in photos)

By: Nicholas

Abroad a month and that was just the beginning . Through my words I have done my best to recreate for you the feelings France has brought to me. My attention focused on the moment I am in, I have experienced each scent, sight and sound as purely as one can. I have worked to capture the essence of each place and pass it on through written language. Unfortunately today, I cannot bring to life the past two weeks in this same way.

When the mind's race is at rest, the world shines with a deeper brightness. At times though, thoughts do not easily accept peace. My life situation is changing and fear stirs with the uncertainty. My discomfort is expressed through my inner voice's old patterns. A carousel of illusions, memories and plans have been preventing me from completely connecting. The chateau in Sacy le Petit deserves a description that tickles the senses, but I have been too far removed to receive the place's inspiration. The obstacle that I face will become more clear with time, but for now I will only share some things in and around the garden that have temporarily given me relief from my burdened brain. 

Plums

Jam Making: Bringing the attention to the hands, we first prepare the fruit by taking out the innards. 

Seething the medieval way is sort of like milking the fruit for juice-leaving behind the skins and sometimes worms!

Add heat

The backyard of Chateau de Sacy, a great place to read and nap

A single rose blooms between the thorns, growing and wrapping  around an iron heart

With Jennifer's table tennis skill growing exponentially it is easy to forget that carrier pigeons once roosted in that background tower waiting for their next delivery assignment  

My competitive opponent Lloyd. Probably allowing recreation to create room for inspiration before our next ping-pong match.

I enjoyed listening to Lloyd Durling describe his work. As he told of his ideology and inspirations, I observed the philosophy and thought come to life off the barn wall.

Making games out of cracking walnuts with our newly graduated college-bound Connor

Hello tall sharp tool. Help Nick invent a path through the Forest garden

The whole body's rhythm  provides meditation for the spirit

Escape the Chateau to pick up warm milk and fresh eggs from the farm  

What better for relaxation than helping life to succeed  

What better to help life succeed than providing warm loving words

Not too close to the barn, yet

BBQ dinners are the best time to listen to Hermine's stories of  un-welcomed artists needing a literal kick in the butt to be removed  from the chateau 

Hermine's connection with the grounds stems from childhood play with the gardeners daughter and a young love with the bakers son

She has grown with the land and her dedication to it is apparent everywhere. For instance in this archway of green beans

Although these wonders have been fogged by my own seperation, I do not  judge my distracted mind. I am grateful that I am able to sense, from the place between the thoughts, that struggle is not permanent. Life's love is always within. 

The Nest

by Jennifer

While weeding the potager and preparing it for new seeds, Nick and I came across 3 baby cherry trees. Beautiful and strong in their adolescents, we wanted them to flourish, to grow, to one day produce fruit and shade for wwoofers to come. With permission from Hermine, Nick began the process of transplanting them near the field with a couple apple and quince trees. When planting a baby tree, you must put a gate or barrier up to protect if from outside sources and keep it safe from harm. After transplanting the first cherry tree, Nick and Hermine wrapped around a thin green wire fence three times. I felt bad for the tree, looking imprisoned inside the metal gate. But it did need protection.

The next morning Hermine showed me a page from a French gardening magazine with a picture and the caption "Des bordures en lianes de clematite". Hermine to me, "You see those sticks there (pointing outside the window to a big pile)? Can you do this here, make this like this in this magazine? Do you think?" and her words hung there, waiting for me. My French is pretty cursory, at best, and I knew I wasn't going to be able to read the article. I tried to translate at least the caption on the internet, but it was no good. I put the computer away and went outside to stare at the pile. How was I going to make a fence out of this? I took a crafts class in college where I learned how to basket weave, but that was using a large needle and also some raffia to wrap the cord. Here I just had branches. 

I found six sturdy and straight sticks and hammered them into the ground in the shape of a circle. I picked up the clematite branches and started weaving. I figured I'd make it up as I went along, like everything else I do. And it worked. I kept going. I wove pieces into each other and slowly, I was erecting the nest. Over three days and tens of splinters, it was created. From nothing, something came. 

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

the boys made me get inside the nest, like a little egg

Me and the nest, Nick and his cherry tree

While making the nest I listened to music. Lady Gaga made me miss my friends, dancing, and wearing heels. Bruce Springsteen asked me if I was ready to prove it all night while I pulled clematite through itself, layer by layer. Sam Cook sang sad love songs into my ear while I wrapped the wood around sticks, as tightly and securely as I could, to maximize structural integtiry. I thought about home, my family, about saying goodbye, and about what might lay ahead of me. 

The irony was not lost on me. I was making a nest, lovingly, for the tree. A home, a safe haven, protection from the elements. I was making a nest for the tree, painstakingly, and then I would leave. Protecting everything and everyone around me, I had no home myself. 

When the nest was complete we picked it up and moved it over top of the tree Nick had planted so delicately. We hammered the six sticks into the ground and the nest was secure. We took some photographs and walked away from the tree and the nest. It's been raining since then, watering the tree and weathering the nest.