We went for a walk

It's amazing what you can find when you go for a walk near your house. I'm not sure whether it matters whether you're in Italy or in the States.

There's an old, empty house in an open field near our home. It's about a quarter mile away sitting by itself on a hill. Every day for two and a half years we drove by the house. We noticed it and often mentioned we'd like to walk over there to see it. On this particular day it seemed to beckon us in a way we couldn't resist so we put Bullet on his leash and set out through the field to explore.

As we walked through the grasses and weeds the first thing to catch my attention was the plants. Things I had never noticed before, bright yellow seed pods tucked into the middle of the plant, wild fennel beginning to come up, and a few stinging nettles which we managed to keep away from (mostly). I think we even saw a "Jack in the pulpit". I've never seen one before but this is what I imagined one would look like.

When we got near the house Bob wanted to go up near it to take pictures. I would have loved to go with him but I was sure I heard a big dog bark from inside the ruins so I took Bullet a different way in order to not have to break up a territorial fight. Bullet and I went up a nearby hill to see what was on the other side. At the crest of the hill I was surprised to see we were near the road we travel on the Saturdays we go to market. In fact, from that vantage point, I could, within a 360 degree turn, see Misterbianco, Motta, Catania, the mountain and the sea. What a wonderful view. I stopped for a moment to take a picture of the town of Misterbianco (our market town) while Bullet waited not so patiently, ready to continue expoloring.

So, we continued our walk (I want to know how Bullet avoided the stinging nettles while I hopped here and there trying to prevent any contact) Just on the other side of the hill was a wonderland. Another old house but in less of a form, only a few posts and shapes of stone, but you could tell it had once been loved by a family. There were flowers in a small area that must have once been a garden. They were small, like most things Sicilian, and had gone native; many daisies, iris and others I didn't recognize. There were pomegranite trees providing a treat for the insects and birds, an olive tree that must have been several hundred years old, and old, old apple trees no longer able to bear fruit.

After exploring cisterns, and walls and rocks and trees, we headed back home. Being assured there was no dog in the first old house, I ventured in for a look. There were archways, basement rooms for coolness in the summer, porches, and several rooms. A nice, old, farmhouse of a place.

There are many of these homes sitting in the countryside rotting (if you can say that about stone houses) in Sicily and people seem to be crowded into apartments in every city and town. It is said that children of the home owners found it more expensive to modernize the house than to just move into an apartment closer to their work.

And interesting sidenote: I'm told that to fix up an old house wherever it is, you have to pay graft to the Mafia for materials, for permissions, for laborers. While it may be true, I find that those things that frustrate the Sicilians (and me, too) are blamed on the Mafia (like getting, or not getting, a telephone in one's home or having to stand in hour-long lines to pay all utility bills at the post office). Maybe I'm just naive.