Thursday, November 8, 2007

A travel home

my ancestor's home... Iskeia an island tucked in the Mediterranean sea.
back in the day they were farmers and fisherman...

Now the town of Forio and the other towns on Iskeia are full of thermal baths and shopping

being on Iskeia,

i understood better my pull to ocean and earth.

but England came as a familiar relief...

so i ask myself am i an Italian or the prodigy of NYC


Reese Zollinger said...


I didn't even know you were travelling, let alone to the Mediterranean. You sly fox. How was it? How are the veggies??? If you get a parched mouth and think longingly of the desert, I know Bean and I would love a visit.

my-yo said...

The trip would have been and was amazing but also rough for i had an alergic reaction that left me coverd in hives and heat and scratching like a monkey. the farm ends next tuesday and how much of an ending it is will be decided this winter. as of now i lean toward no farm at all next year but i know i am teatering on shaky emotions so time will tell. as for the desert i long... and for you as well.

Shari Zollinger said...

please tell of what is happening with the farm in more detail--or perhaps a phone conversation is in order?
miss you

my-yo said...

What is up with the farm you ask?

Disappointment yes and i suppose in all honesty a bit of relief. It is as if i fell in love with farming with plants with feeding people and then i fell in love with doing all this in community…so i guess i have been in love. When love first springs everything else falls away, all you can feel is the love. Well my neighbors pulled out of the farm, they are choosing a different path with their land, which in turn has turned up my path and i am looking at it. Once again I am looking at my path, and it looks different. As to how different well…the enquiry is only just beginning. i haven’t yet sorted through the parts that i love in order to examine the burrs and the bones that stick and why they stick. But the rural me surfaced and she is hungry for open spaces. i know the answer is in the grumble of my soul, and i plan to spend this winter maybe even next year listening.
of course the story is longer but voice would give more outlet the fingers on machine.
the missing goes both ways,