SAN GIMIGNANO

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Wakened again by the morning bell, and the burring of wood pigeons.

Peace of the early morning cloisters.

The Sun, burning off the mist from the Tuscan hills, reveals a beauty that has everyone singing in the showers.

Home again, to this 12^th Century Monastery, restored and maintained by the Augustinian Order, in this delightful hilltop town: every year we arrive for a week of ice-cream, wine, pasta  (and some prayer!).

Dreamy days/daze:

meditating to the hymning of the bees amongst the blossoms, or the flute
of our German Buddhist friend who comes to play for us (sometimes our own piper joins him).

Later,wandering the cobbled streets renewing old  friendships:

a grappa here, a grappa there, (a grappa everywhere!)  -

ah!  Italian hopsitality

                                    (oops!.)

full moon  -

a midnight

ice cream