15 June 2008--By Ted TurnerTuscan Orchard – An Un-Aesthetic TaleCarlo and Lucia Paterno arose early and went to Santa Maria for Mass. This was the first day after their marriage ceremony, and their families had sacrificed and saved to obtain for them a two-day rental of a remote villa in the countryside surrounding the ancient city of Sienna. They had always loved one-another, indeed Lucia could not remember a time that she had not known Carlo. Their families had always been close, sharing the land, a vineyard, the great feasts -- and the sad times as well.
After Mass Lucia looked back at the decrepit but beautiful chapel of no particular color -- every color all at once that seemed as if it had always been there on that hallowed spot. She marveled at how peaceful it seemed, how perfect. They continued to the bakery and bought bread made fresh, still hot -- wrapped carefully in paper, nestled neatly in the picnic basket along side two bottles of their own families' wine. The bottles themselves were part of the wedding gift -- they were the best and could have been sold for a tidy sum, but for their loving families selling these bottles for money would have been unthinkable. They saved the best for their children.
They then hiked up past their villa, up and up, miles they went until they entered what appeared to be a lost orchard. It was a secret place. An old place. A few trees with thickened mis-shapen trunks remained. They were in bloom and as the sun warmed the air it became filled with flying things -- things that you could see and hear -- an infinity of them darting and dancing, busy living their lives. Carlo spread out the blanket and they breakfasted. They were hungry from their fast, and the hike and were invigorated by the beauty of their surroundings, and by their love. The flying things became busier, and noisier; they were bees intoxicating themselves in the dance of life.
Carlo looked at Lucia. She returned his gaze. The world withdrew a respectful distance, the humming of the bees seemed attenuated.
"If only... " he began his thought, but for a moment he could not continue. Lucia took his hand in both of hers and looked at him, eyes brimming with emotion. Something like light passed between them, a spark --
"Speak to me my love."
He continued, "By any chance, did you bring the thermometer?"
