It has been raining so much here that our roof has bloomed. We can look out our bedroom window onto the top of the front porch roof and see tiny pink wildflowers opening in the intermittent sun.

Also, because of the rain, part of the hillside in Capezzano Monte collapsed down into the ravine, taking a big section of the Via Canaldoro with it. Fortunately, no houses were in the way and no one got hurt, but the people who live above that section of road -- including three of our pub friends -- have no way of getting in and out of their houses except by hiking. 

The commune is working now to put in a temporary bridge so that they will be able at least to move their cars down to a parking place below the landslide. Then the workers will take the bridge away while they repair the road. But at least then when the residents hike out of their homes, they will have their cars waiting for them instead of just being stranded on the side of a very steep and obviously unstable mountainside. The new road construction is expected to take at least a year -- maybe two.

But no one can say that the spirit of the hill folk is in any way dimmed by these troubles. On May Day, Jonathan and I went down to the pub for an aperativo and were sitting talking in the late afternoon tranquility to Nonno and Geppolino when a big van pulled up and a dozen of our friends piled out -- Valerio and Semina and Il Presidente and others -- and everyone on the terrace greeted them with cheers. Then they all got drinks.

They speak a dialect up here in the hills so that even Jonathan, whose Italian is very fluent, can often not understand what is being said. I certainly don't. So we have gotten used to sussing out situations by body language and reasonable conjecture. We figure out what is going on, often, just based on the vibes.

"They've been up to something," I said to Jonathan about the guys getting out of the van. "They have the swagger of conquering heroes -- like they have been through some great trial together and have emerged victorious."

"Yeah," Jonathan said. "It's like they have won a grand battle."

Drinking. It turns out that they had been drinking at a secret bar in Viareggio all day. It is a May Day tradition started 50 years ago by Nonno. They pool their money for a van and a driver who takes them to a secret location at 8 a.m. and they drink all day long.

They had been at it for 11 hours and were still standing when they decided to return to the pub for another drink so that they would be on home turf for the end game. So the can-do spirit and steadfastness in the face of great challenges is alive and well in these hills.

Our new grandbaby is thriving and even though it is not yet the date that he was originally supposed to be due, he now weighs more than his father did when he was born. Jonathan and I have been shopping for baby clothes at the Super Bimbo store Lido di Camaiore. If they sold "Super Bimbo" t-shirts, I would buy one. Instead, we got a romper that says "Bello come Babbo" -- "Handsome like Daddy" -- on the front.

And we have been given even more lemons, so I am at it again with the marmalade. I am thinking of using it as a marinade for roast pork. Because no one can eat this much toast.

Our Italian teacher told us about the best place around here to get cannoli -- a tiny pastry shop by the sea in Viareggio where they fill the cannoli while you wait. So we went yesterday and got four and ate two (one each) for breakfast and two for lunch. Then I had a nap. Then I had some toast with marmalade for the vitamin C. Because I'm healthy like that.