It is a misty morning and from where I am sitting next to the window, it is completely silent. There is not one sound, no birds, not even the sea. We are waiting for rain later, but for the now the sky is gray and quiet, like it's holding its breath. The air outside smells like woodsmoke.

The past few days, the air has been so cold and clear that we could count the containers on the decks of boats waiting in the sea lanes to go into the harbor at La Spezia. The sea itself has been bottle green.

At night, the full moon has been bright enough to cast strong shadows from the cypress trees that line our drive. I walk through them in stripes when I go to take out the trash in the evenings. Orion is down at the end of the drive again, one of the very few constellations I can identify with any certainty. He is an old friend. The moonlight is pale blue, but the lights in the house are warm and yellow and it is nice to come out of the cold into the warmth.