My people have arrived.  Nine women and one man.  At the house where they stay, surrounded by fields of sunflowers, there are no sheep or cows wandering through the garden; and only the occasional slightly nervous wild boar.  Without the pulsing animal and insect populations that keep an orario continuato up at my place  in the hills of Corgna, they sleep.  The only thing to wake them in the valley, is the sun.   The thought of it could make me cry with hope and happiness.  I am not leaving this house tonight.  I am going to sleep right along with them.
We had supper salads for their arrival.  Summer sweet melon and prosciutto, mozzarella di bufala, tomato and basil, and cannellini with raw garlic, flat leaf parsley, tiny arugula leaves, croutons, lemon zest, thin slices of red onion and shavings of Parmesan.  I made a frittata with all the fresh herbs that I could find in the garden, and for dessert, cantucci dipped  in Vin Santo.