Aquapendente — Oct 17

Today started nice and chilly, about 50° which is nippy until after you get started and then it’s really pleasant. The first hour and a half or so of walking was on asphalt on a country road with occasional cars zipping by, as we walked past harvested grain fields.

I encountered, for the first time today, three people from France, one of whom had walked from Lausanne Switzerland.

The farmers were out, grading their fields, preparing them for next year’s harvest, with clouds of dust following them. Today had a kind of Kansas feel to it, a little mini Meseta. It’s just the kind of place for good interior inspection. Yesterday Fr. Jim and I had a wonderful discussion about growing older. I’m 64 and he’s 70. Our bodies are telling us we are no longer even middle-aged. And that both of us are probably in our last quarter or fifth of life. It’s sobering, but we both accept it. And, of course, on just such a day, as we are sitting there, eating lunch a group of young men, probably in the early 20s, go jauntily  by. Neither of us looked that fresh at the end of our days. But, we’re all on this adventure together. We choose to face the future with courage, hope and happiness. There are still adventures to be had, and meaningful work for us to apply ourselves.

And then we were back in the hills, to which we have become so accustomed, and I am reminded of the song we prayed this morning.

Psalm 121: I raise my eyes toward the mountains. From whence shall come my help? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth. He will not allow your foot to slip nor your guardian to sleep. Behold, the guardian of Israel never slumbers nor sleeps. The Lord is your guardian; the Lord is your shade at your right hand. By day, the sun will not strike you, nor the moon by night. The Lord will guard you from all evil; he will guard your soul. The Lord will guard your coming and going both now and forever.

When, many days ago, I passed from Liguria to Tuscany, there were no signs. I only knew I had crossed that line because the book told me so. . But Lazio rolled out a little welcome sign for us. A new province, perhaps new food? New things ahead.

The middle of the morning had lots of graded gravel roadway, but once passing into Lazio, it has become primarily asphalt again.

The alternate route took us through the little town of Proceno. There was not one gelateria, but I’m not bitter. The way out of town had a harrowing descent, and a beautiful walk in the woods, the path led with yellow, autumn leaves, and a few glimpses of a brook running alongside.

Love from your priest,
Fr. Patrick