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LETTER FROM TUSCANY September 2011
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A VERY LOVELY THING HAPPENED lately at ‘Trove’. When we bought the farm 40 years ago one of the fields had a pretty little stone hut, tucked into a 'grotto' next to an old stone wall. The field is called 'il Campo di Paolino' because it had been the field of a man called Paolo, Paolino for short. Paolino was born in one of the rooms at Trove, in about 1900 and grew up there as the son of the 'mezzadria' – sharecroppers. At the time farms like our Trove were seldom owned by small farmers but were part of huge holdings with absentee landowners in Siena, Firenze, Rome. The owners would have a summer villa, high on whatever hill looked over their lands, and would leave the heat of the cities to come to the countryside for the fresh air and the excitement of the harvests and summertime festivals. They also enjoyed the 'droit de signeur'. In our parts there’s the lovely but somewhat tattered Villa Salimbeni. We often walk past it on our way to the top of the Cerreto hill where the wild asparagus grow. A primitive version of their family crest is on the arch at Trove where the working cattle entered their stables at night and where the wooden ploughs and carts were stored. Each farm housed a number of families, one per each room. There was a trunk for their clothes, one set for work and one set for Sundays with one pair of boots. There was a large double bed where the parents and older children slept, boys head to tail along the foot of the bed and the newest baby in a hammock slung across the bedhead. There was a large kitchen living room with the huge old fireplace, where food was cooked and stories told. The oldies sat within the fireplace, in the warm corner space. The youngest sat at the back on the edge of the circle around the precious fire. Each farm had its 'fattore' or head farmer and each of the men had their separate responsibilities – the working cattle, the vineyards, the olive grove, the grainfields … and there was the 'massaia' head woman. In the 1950’s Trove housed 25 people. Though the land was not theirs the members of the mezzadria loved their farms and it was only after the War and the start of light industry that they began to leave in search of a wage, so their children could go to school and become the professionals, small businessmen and landowners of the future. But the land remained in their hearts and so often when we're working in the vineyard we see a car approach and the driver walk around just looking: "I grew up here" they say and tell us stories as they try our wine. Others just couldn't leave. Like Paolino. He went to live in the nearby village, worked in the lignite mines and terracotta factories nearby, saving enough to buy a little bit of land to grow his grapes, olives, fruit and food for the rabbits and hens. He walked from the village to the field in the morning and returned home at night. The little stone hut gave storage for tools and shelter from the mid-day summer sun 'il solleone' and the winter freeze. |
Paolino died, in the village, a decade ago. Wild fig trees grew around the hut, their roots lifting the big old stones. Winter storms damaged the roof tiles. And the hut became a ruin. Until Ugo and some wonderful helpers decided that it was time for the hut to stand tall again. Feral figs and wild brambles were cleared, stones collected from the fields, rafters found for new roof tiles. An old door from Trove was put in place. So Paolino's little hut stands once again in the middle of his small field. With our warmest good wishes and we hope to see you again in Italy soon ...
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