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Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Cheesestraws and Pie

What does a sense of place mean? I have been reading for the second time Under the Tuscan Sun by Frances Mayes. The movie is not at all like the book. She is from Fitzgerald, Georgia. She discusses being a Southern woman at length. How we have a sense of place. Her house in Tuscany, Bramasole, called to her. Call me crazy but I feel the same about our little yellow house. I don't feel it as a status or prestige thing...."my house is better than your". No never that. The yellow house feels right for us. As if it was waiting for us. I am overjoyed that pink camillas are blooming now by the deck. The neighbors have given me their phone numbers and all have said to call for "anything". They say come borrow whatever you need. Is that not all kinds of awesome? This little yellow house has enveloped us and so have our neighbors. They brought homemade cheesestraws and pie. Choclate pie. I sit here in the old house, chilly, cat on lap knowing we have a charming place with delightful people and pie.

Olive Out

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