After four days of sunshine, a storm is blowing in tonight. Already we can't see the sea.

The boys were fractious and discontented down at the pub -- displeased at the changes that have happened down in town, displeased at the useless shops and restaurants that displaced the artists. The fascist government, in their war against the local foliage, have trimmed back the formerly lofty and gracious gracious trees that lined the Via Apua, killing (they say inadvertently) many of them. Valerio served us some snacks of a strange vegetable and when the boys asked where it was from, he said, "Via Apua." We all laughed ruefully. Nonno and Mirio sat next to each other and I watched their faces, so similar, while we talked and knew that we won't have them much longer.

We have given up hope of Jonathan's driver's license ever coming from the office in Lucca and today began the process all over again at what is apparently a friendlier and more relaxed office in Massa. The people working in it, when we went by today, were indeed friendly and relaxed. But everyone is friendly and relaxed at the beginning -- it is the bait that keeps us optimistically biting on the bureaucratic hook.

We have made limoncello from Sara's lemons now and I continue to work on the pictures for my tarot deck. The flowers are a riot on the hillside. We swim up the Via Capriglia in them.