This is the last door post from the open-door day last May when I visited three properties south of Siena in Tuscany.
But first, two images and a poem. The first was shared today by a dear friend with this quote:
When a great moment knocks on the door of your life, it is often no louder than the beating of your heart, and it is very easy to miss it.Boris Pasternak
Thank you, Lyona! Hard to miss your heart knocking!
And now to the daily poem which completes the first week of April. Entertained? You’ll get three more…
Prompt 7: “Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that argues against, or somehow questions, a proverb or saying.”
This is something I saw just before starting my poem, by photographer Mostafa Heravi. Nothing to do with doors but it surely got me thinking.
When one door shuts, another opens This is what they say. Maybe this is the problem. You cannot simply get a new planet plant plan carat car kart dress dance door. When your one door shuts, this is the end. The train stops there. The door shuts there. Think before you slam.
Lucky those with many doors who can leave them open or closed at will. Italy is one such.
Last week we reached Radi and walked to its castle which is now a villa available for events or holidays. Today we step outside, mingle among the lemons and arches, and then enter the part which has been refurbished during the pandemic. Nothing if not nice.
After the tour I stopped at the bar from the previous post for some tea and cake and had it in the hot sun. It felt good. When I reached my lonely car, I noticed a garage door partially open and swallows zooming in and out loudly. Their nest must have been inside. They leave the door open for the swallows. How nice.
One more thing and a fair warning: I wrote another poem today, about Luka Dončić, the Slovenian basketball player for Dallas Mavericks who last night got their 50th win of the season. Playoffs start soon. If one of the remaining poetry prompts this April gets to mention our role-models, or victory and sport of any kind, I’m posting it, even though it won’t be written on the day in question. It’s good, you’ll see.
The last day in my NaPoWriMo history
2018: The vulnerable won’t help
Victims need not blame swimmers cannot ski the blind refuse to talk the living are dead yet. Happy are those who choose it the strong are waiting to break multitudes suck you in the vulnerable won’t help. (Visit this post to see What I am.)
My job? I like to leave art to artists, poems to poets, shots to photographers and doors to everybody just as some leave stones for the takers. Gifting is giving to yourself as much as to others, and lucky us who can.
2020: Talk to a Swede
It was four years ago, and the news was brief: the number +46 771 793 336 and the invitation “Get connected to a random Swede and talk about anything”. Swedish Tourist Association is precise. In 79 days they got 197678 calls that lasted 367 days in total. The calls were from 190 countries, the most from the USA, the last from Australia.
2021: Fib tango
What a lesson. Serves me right. Expectations fail. Now how can I be so hopeful?
This day in my blogging history
2014: It takes a lot to laugh, it takes a train to cry. —Bob Dylan
2014: The picture of home that amore sent me before I arrived. I taped it to my ex kitchen wall to look at and wait.
2014: Made with love by www.ursanina.si (She is a friend.)
2015: If you hit a wrong note, it’s the next note that you play that determines if it’s good or bad. —Miles Davis