Baby it's cold outside
Interesting, isn't it, how a mere four weeks can turn a person's concept of proper weather from one reality to another. This morning, again, for the third day in a row, the dawn launched cold and gray. Snowflakes at the ready. Observing hardy tourists in the Piazza below, I noted all manner of bundling up from scarves and mittens to a blanket worn as outerwear and a flock of crazily ineffectual umbrellas. The fur coats -- from moth-eaten to simply luxe -- are out in force and a girl's thoughts turn to things stewed. (As if that's unusual for this girl...)
Truth is, it ain't that cold, at least compared to the weather in Portland (Irwin says it's 28 there...) but here in Florence, we're in arctic climes at 34. The city seems oddly quiet, there are actual empty parking spaces adjacent to the Piazza and I believe the local schools are closed. People are hunkering down, bundling up and talking ceaselessly over lunch about the historically low temperatures plaguing Europe at the moment.
To celebrate the winter weather, Davis and I trudged off to a favorite local luncherie, the Bean Restaurant (ok, Ristoranti dei Fagioli) to take our noonday repast. We were treated to absolutely delicious beef stew and veal meatballs both served with a course mash of roasted potato. Pefect for a wintery day. A little wine, a little coffee, some hot out of the oven apple cake to share and I'm ready for a nap. Davis, true to form, is off walking about. I think I'll tackle that sock heel and see what follows.