One of the reasons for my sadness last week was Sabrina. My tree. I got a message. You’ll have to eradicate it. He said. Trees on rooftops break down buildings. Kill Sabrina? Kill hope? You can’t kill hope.

I found out she was a fig tree. Figs. Mamma Mia - could the symbolism be any more ripe? They told me to expect figs soon. She’ll bear fruit. Babies! She’s pregnant and he just said pour poison on her out your window. It will kill her roots. Fortunately with this virus the gardener is not allowed to come. It’s probably a good thing I didn’t have the poison last week or I might have drank it.

For the time being I put thoughts of what to do with Sabrina on back-hold. It’s what I do. Juggle one problem at a time. This week it’s dealing with the tax audit. My neighbor said as soon as his gardener who tends to his rooftop terrace comes he’ll have him look at it. And I said we need to find out how to transplant it. Reaching her roots is going to be a problem. We will need a ladder.

Meanwhile I’ve been buying plants when I see them. There aren’t many. But yesterday I got a sage plant so I can make fried sage leaves. Do you know how to make them? Soak the sage leaves - the bigger the better - in beer, roll in flour, salt and crunchy black pepper. The thicker the batter - the better - and deep fry until the leaves are puffy and golden. It’s like serving Tuscany on a plate.

Mio Dio! I have sage and figs. My house is being filled with sacred ingredients. I just realized I even have a quartz rosary from Verona Prive on my table and I’m not even Catholic.

I look up the meaning of fig “When you see the fig tree, it's a sign of enlightenment and discovery of oneself. It is a sign you need to look into your life, understand the purpose of your existence, and the need to make an impact on others.”

Call me crazy but I think Sabrina is talking to me. I talk to her, so why not she talk back? Fuck this isolation really is driving me crazy. It’s driving me crazy. The longer this quarantine goes the more I think Jack from The Shining actually held it together quite well. But the Fig tree… I mean really, the Biblical references alone to a Fig Tree Growing in my bathroom window are enough to make even an unbeliever believe. Hope. Isn’t that what we are all looking for right now? And yesterday I found more hope. A gelato shop was open. I had my first gelato of the season. I chatted excitedly to the owner who only half understood me. Sono molto felice. Si. Si Si. Signorina.

I was walking to the grocery store and the streets they were abandoned and there I saw it. The Gelateria Artigianale Igloo was open! They didn’t have many flavors and no cones - and I wasn’t even hungry - but I wanted to support the owner for opening the first day he could so I took one for the team. Yes, I’m all heart. Generous in spirit. I saw him and smiled and waved and I stopped and pulled out my 2 euro - and bought a scoop of Venetian Cream.

I was looking for signs of life when I left my apartment. Everyone keeps calling and saying “I hear Italy is opening up! The news looks so good but I look out my window and I don’t see the signs of life people say they see on the news. Yesterday we had a Nuova Ordinanza di Zaia. All people will be able to move - individually - throughout the municipality to do physical activities, stretch their legs. I think this means officially we can leave our 200 meters (1/10th a mile) for the purpose of exercise. The mandate was clear there is an obligation to avoid gatherings of any kind. But the purchase of take away food is now allowed. We get gelato! When this all began - and the rules became imposed - and I understand the rules are for the greater good - but if felt like civil liberties were being taken away. And now… we’ve been given back the right to eat gelato. It tastes like Freedom. I laugh and eat my gelato in the sun and think… to Life, Liberty and the pursuit of happiness (and gelato).

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