Wednesday was mostly an errand day for me, as we started preparing to break camp and move on to The Dalles, our next temporary home. This is such a strange and unnerving time, and the first time I’ve had any misgivings about not having our own home. It might be nice to be sheltering in place in our own place, without wondering who was the last guest in the spot we’ll move on to next.
While I was tending to business Rachael sped off on her bike for a 42 mile loop out to the Columbia River and back. Just a normal day for her, until her ride was cut short by an enormous UPS delivery truck that turned into her at an intersection. She’s fine, thank heavens, other than for a few fairly minor scrapes; but we’re both feeling very thankful today.
This seems like an odd time to introduce my song, but it’s been on my mind for almost a week, literally. It’s Volare, by Domenico Modugno. It came to mind a few days ago when I read of housebound Italians singing it in unison from their balconies to keep their spirits up. I’m very susceptible to earworms, and I’ve been cycling to Volare ever since.
You might enjoy our visit last spring to Polignano a Mare, where the song originated. It’s a beautiful little village on the Adriatic Coast, and everywhere you turn you find people breaking out in chorus – in front of the statue of Modugno, or at the feet of a street musician.