Our Garden in Sicily

Much like yesterday, today began with an early morning visit from K. Only this time C was the one with his head under the pillow trying (nicely) to fend off her onslaught of eager, happy kisses while I was the one who rolled over (smiling to myself) and started to plan out our day. In an effort to wake up her daddy, K once again flung open the curtains and let sunlight pour into our room. Stretching, I turned to look out the window. Outside, lazy clouds were rolling across a vivid expanse of blue; birds were already beginning to sing. I smiled again, this time directly at K, Good morning, honey. Let's explore.

We ate a hurried breakfast, loaded into the car, and drove to one of our favorite spots in one of our favorite cities: the gardens in Caltagirone. Sicily isn't exactly brimming with shady, traffic-free acres of green, so living near these gardens is a blessing for us. Designed by Giovanni Battista Basile in the mid-1800s, the gardens are an inspiration. We like to enter from the back, on the outskirts of the garden. Imagine rows of tall pine trees threaded with graceful cobblestone paths, shady nooks, fountains and ceramic sculpture. Picture yourself there. Listen to the birds sing. Inhale. The scent of pine lingers in the air. Above you, spiderwebs are delicately strung between the branches. You walk slowly, up and up and up, but when you emerge upon the courtyard it feels sudden. A large gazebo (made of bright, colorful majolica) dominates the view, but you notice a small gelateria and a series of stone steps almost hidden in the back. Climb up the steps; you're there.

It almost feels like a secret, this little English garden with its even squares of green and its pretty, well-trimmed roses, but it's somehow also wild: unexpected ceramic faces peer devilishly in; palm trees grow where they don't belong. We delight in this place. The girls run here and there, investigating. C & I sit on benches, holding hands and talking, watching them. We feel at home here. It may be the Giardino Pubblico della Villa Communale, but I just think of it as our garden.