Saturday was a glorious day so we headed down to one of my favorite local places, Canneto. The Madonna del Canneto sanctuary is located outside of the town of Roccavivara in the Molise and is about 10 minutes away from us by car.

According to the plaque found on the church grounds, it was built on the site of an earlier-existing place of worship, as noted by the Chronicon Vulturnense, which relates that in 706 Gisulfo I, Duke of Benevento, donated to the monks of San Vincenzo al Volturno a church devoted to the Virgin Mary, later destroyed by fire, nearby the Trigno river. The long story of its reconstruction then began which started with the addition of the aisles and the bell tower (9th-10th centuries) to arrive at the transformations of the twelfth century…. The plaque goes on to mention that the Benedictines of San Vincenzo, in alternation with those of Monte Cassino, gave a new impulse to the site by making of it..a centre of prayer and of work…

The inside of the church is very dark, but with a little help from the computer, I was able to lighten this photo so you can see the inside.

The church grounds include a garden along with stations of the cross and an outside worship area

There’s also a picnic area right outside of the church grounds, and there are fairs held outside throughout the year.

As you can imagine, this is a favorite spot for couples planning their wedding. The church itself has so much character and the grounds are immaculately groomed.

But, there’s more

Behind the church there are also Roman ruins with mosaics. You can’t enter the ruins, but they are easily seen through the Plexiglas protecting them. Among the various items to be seen are the large terracotta vases that were used for preserving oil and wine and an oven for ceramic production.

And, what abbey would be complete without a resident dog? Actually, I don’t really know if the dog belongs to the nuns or not, but he was certainly friendly….

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Saturday night/Sunday morning we changed our clocks ahead to what they call here in Italy, “legal time”. A definite sign of spring and one that I look forward too despite the fact that I “lose” an hour of sleep because this means that in the evening, we can actually start doing more since it stays light later.

So, last night we headed out to our “farm” to check on the water situation.

There we were greeted by even more signs of spring.

Cherry blossoms

Apple blossoms

Plum blossoms

and the wild arugula

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Between my parents being here visiting and spending time with them, a trip with them to Rome, a few translation projects, English students, and one other very important thing that I’ll mention later, I’ve been very busy lately. I haven’t had time to read any of my favorite blogs, let alone write mine.

As I mentioned, we took a trip to Rome with my parents. Rather than having to deal with driving there, we took the bus instead. There was only one problem. I had the tickets in my purse and the night before, I decided to change purses. No big deal, right? Wrong. I did something that is really out of character for me. I forgot to transfer the tickets from one purse to another. I had everything else, just not them.

The morning we left, O must have asked me 4 times if I had my camera and extra battery. But, did he ask me about the tickets? No….

So, we’re driving along and we get about 1/2 of the way to Vasto where we’re going to pick up the bus and we see 3 buses go by all in a row. O comments about how everyone must be going to Rome and I said, “*&%$ non ho i biglietti.” To which he said, “Come non hai i biglietti?” and a few other choice words. In the end, we made a quick turnaround, taking the back way to get the tickets. Of course, the back way meant going past (more like through) the tile factory so our black car turned a nice pasty gray by the time we were done.

Amazingly enough, we managed to go back, get the tickets, and make it to the bus stop in time. It’s a half hour drive from where we live to the bus stop. Now, since we were already halfway there meant that we had to go back halfway and return. It should have been a 45 minute drive.

So, here are some photos from Rome. Rather than show you the stuff that everyone sees, I focused on some of the things that amaze me - basically, the sculptures. How these artists managed to craft such lifelike images out of stone, I’ll never know. It required a patience that you would be hard-pressed to find in anyone today. When I think of modern sculpture I think of things like bent steel I-beams or other masses of metal that have been placed in front of buildings and given some fanciful name. Sorry, but I really don’t appreciate a lot of modern sculpture.

How can you compare that with the way this foot was sculpted?

Or this hand?

Or this one?

And, doesn’t this look like real material?

All of these are sculptures located in St. Peter’s and I couldn’t resist adding a picture of one of the holy water fonts

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About a month or so ago we took a trip to San Giovanni in Venere which is located a short distance from here near the town of Fossacesia.

Right near the Abbey can be found the oldest olive tree in Abruzzo.

The following is the text of the sign that is next to the tree

THE GREAT OLIVE

Officially recorded by hand and placed within the Rome Record Office it is written:

“Regia Badia di San Giovanni…on the hills of the Adriatic Sea, on the full and Conspicuous horizon, over the Great Olive Grove, exists a big temple by the name of San Giovanni in Venere”.

During the XII Century, the Abbey of San Giovanni, was built along with the Great Olive Grove on the ruins of a pagan temple dedicated to the goddess Venus. This olive tree is the sole specimen of the most ancient olive tree in the province of Abruzzo. In 2003 Mr. Giuseppe Ursini of the Ursini Extra Vergine Olive Oil Company, in collaboration with the cloistered monastery the “Padri Passionisti”, current owner of the site, accepted stewardship of this national treasure.
Years of neglect caused the health of the tree to be in a critical condition however the commitment by Mr. Ursini is to halt the current decline and restore it to vibrant health.

The great olive tree was declared a national monument along with the Abbey of San Giovannni in 1871.

So, from this we can surmise that the tree has been there since the XII century which would make it around 900 years old. If that trunk could only talk, what stories it would have to tell…..

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Last week my cousin, actually my dad’s cousin (which would make her my aunt here in Italy), came to visit for a few days, so we took the opportunity to ride down to the town where my great-grandmother, her grandmother, was born. The town is Riccia, in the province of Campobasso, in the Molise region. Riccia is about an hour and a half away from where I now live. (We ended up getting lost and it took quite a bit longer, but we won’t get into that story here.)

But, I didn’t visit the historical sites of the town. No castles were included in the tour even though there is one in the town. We were more interested in walking where she walked and seeing where she lived. Of course, this included the old part of town with it’s cobblestone streets and steps.

I was disappointed to find that the house is gone and now is just an empty paved lot. It is a beautiful town though.

Of course, as you can probably imagine, this started me thinking about my great-grandmother, what she must have been like and how she must have lived. Unfortunately, she passed away before I was born, but my cousin was able to tell me a lot about her since she spent her days with her while her mother was working.

Many people tell me that the fact that I picked up and moved to another country where I didn’t speak the language well, was a courageous move on my part, often saying how brave I was to do so. Believe me, compared to the move made by my great-grandmother, what I did looks like a task for the cowardly lion. Here’s a woman who at the age of 16 left her parents and the only home she had ever known. With 3 dollars in her pocket, she took a boat trip to stay with an aunt and uncle she had probably not seen in years, in a country where she did not speak the language, knowing that she was destined to marry a man, my great-grandfather, whom she had never met. Now that’s courage.

When she was leaving, did she know she would never return to Italy? More importantly, did she have any inkling that she would never see her parents again?

But, the story doesn’t end there. How nice it would be to be able to say that she and my great-grandfather married, had children and lived a happy life together. Unfortunately, it was not to be. We like to believe that she and my great-grandfather were happy together, but it was short-lived.

Sometime after they were married and my grandfather was born, his father bought some land to farm in New Jersey. When my grandfather was 8 years old, his father died during the 1918 influenza epidemic at the age of 30, leaving my great-grandmother with 6 children ranging in age from 8 to 1 and a farm to manage. Needless to say, it was an impossible task and she ended up moving back to the city. To add insult to injury, her youngest child was taken from her and given to someone else to raise and she would never see her again.

She later got remarried and had more children with her second husband. But, her life would never be an easy one. The immigrants of those times did not have easy lives.

Reflecting on that life, I often think about how strong a person she must have been. And the stories I’ve been told don’t disappoint me in that regard. I often wonder, would I be able to face such diversity with the strength that she did? Hopefully I won’t ever have to find out.

Here she is when she married my great-grandfather

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