Storms and Thyme Roasted Pears with Pecorino

Storms and Thyme Roasted Pears with Pecorino

We’ve had some lovely storms lately, wild and wonderful with good, drenching rain. When they happen in the afternoon, the setting sun turns the skies into a magical canvas of light and shadow.

storm clouds Allora

I love the colors in those moments, plum and magenta, peach and charcoal.

roof and storm clouds

It amazes me how the sky transforms from a clear blue expanse to something out of an Old World painting.

pink storm clouds

I don’t get much work done on afternoons like this, utterly mesmerized by clouds and light and shimmering gold as the setting sun peaks out from under the storm.

tree and storm clouds

As the rain fell this week, I made a dish I first tasted in Montepulciano, Italy several years ago: roasted pears with pecorino cheese. It’s one of my favorite Italian recipes because it’s simple to make yet utterly delicious.

thyme roasted pears with pecorino

I added fresh sprigs of thyme and as the pears roasted and cheese bubbled, the house filled with exquisite scents.

roasted pears with pecorino

On a hot, stormy night, the cheesy pears are a lovely addition to a dinner of potato salad with capers and cold pork with beetroot chutney.

Now Bear and I are going Christmas tree hunting. Every year we choose a live fruit tree to decorate so we can add it to our orchard after Christmas. I really love decorating the tree, so we’re getting it today so we can decorate it tomorrow for my birthday. Bring on the Christmas music and iced hot chocolate!

What are you looking forward to this weekend? xo

Thyme Roasted Pears with Pecorino

Ingredients:

4 ripe pears, halved and cored
1 cup pecorino cheese, grated
sprigs of fresh thyme

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 350F (180C).
2. Line square baking pan with baking paper.
3. Arrange pears in pan, cut side up. Sprinkle with pecorino and sprigs of thyme.
4. Roast for 20-30 minutes until cheese is melted and beginning to brown.
5. Serve warm or cold.

Turning 40 and My Italy Book

Turning 40 and My Italy Book

It’s dark and cool tonight after a gorgeous rain that soaked deep into our parched soil. The air smells delectably clean and fresh and frogs are croaking happily outside my office window.

It’s long past my bedtime, but I don’t mind. It’s the last day of my 30’s and I feel quiet and thoughtful, happy to indulge in some quiet moments to settle my heart and embrace this next big adventure: turning 40.

Krista BjornI feel deeply thankful to be in this place, this time in my life. Not because things are idyllic and stress-free, far from it, but because I’m handling things so much better. I love sitting back and observing my stronger self, getting little chuckles of pride when I don’t crumple before a bully or have my health shatter at the first hint of stress. It’s a lovely, amazing thing to grow, heal, and strengthen, to feel courage and self-confidence instead of crippling fear and self-doubt.

A few months ago I decided that I was going to do something brave and creative before my 40th birthday, something I’ve been dreaming about since I was a little girl: publish my own book.

Although I’m thrilled with the history book I was commissioned to write, and can’t wait to share it with you in a month or so, I really wanted to make a book that was all mine, my words, my photographs, a sharing of something precious to me.

So, bit by bit over the last months, an hour here, a few snatched minutes there, I’ve been working on a black and white photography book about Italy. Although I initially thought I’d write words to go with it, the photos took over and it became a book more about inspiration and reflection than words. I finished up the last edits today and am delighted to be able to share it with you on the eve of my 40th birthday.

italia book coverThese are not images of famous buildings, fashionistas, or posh restaurants, they’re moments of daily life. From laundry blowing in the wind and a farmhouse breakfast to surprising works of art and treasured moments in Italian homes, these are the photos that I love: quiet, simple, reflective. (You can see a little preview below.)

If you would like a bit of Italian inspiration of your own, you can order the book here if you’re in Australia, and order it here if you’re in any other part of the world. And if you’d just like to bask a while in the preview photos, that would be lovely too.
In the morning Bear and I are off to spend my birthday together and I can’t wait. We’ve both been working so hard and it will be bliss to set aside a whole day just to have fun and make good memories.
Wishing you a beautiful weekend.
xo
A Drive Through the Italian Alps

A Drive Through the Italian Alps

β€œAll mountain landscapes hold stories:
the ones we read,
the ones we dream,
and the ones we create.”
Michael Kennedy

I have loved mountains since I was little girl growing up near the Rocky Mountains in Canada. I love their rugged, soaring beauty, their slightly terrifying wildness that compels you to look but maybe not touch.

I’ve never had a desire to actually climb them. The thought of dizzying heights and scraggly trails wending along sheer rock faces brings me no pleasure whatsoever. But I dearly love looking at them.

And driving between them.

My friend Margo took me for a drive through the Italian Alps near Vogogna one gorgeous Autumn afternoon.

Italian Alps

We were both exhausted from months of hard work on various projects, and it was pure bliss to close our laptops, shut our notebooks and head out into sunshine and crisp mountain air.

Our road took us along icy mountain streams, perfectly clear as they tumbled over rocks and under bridges.

river through the Italian Alps

We meandered through pretty little villages marked by gorgeous stone buildings and cows wearing gigantic bells around their necks.

We got out to explore a wonderful old church with murals on the outside of the building. I’d never seen anything like that before. It made me feel good somehow to know that the builders of this church shared its beauty with anyone who looked at it, not just those who entered its doors.

Italian Alpine church

Just below the church sprawled a cemetery with truly exquisite views of the towering mountains. I found the weathered stone crosses so beautiful.

stone cross in the Alps

I liked this home built next to the church, topped with staggered terraces festooned with flowers, vines, and fruit trees. What a wonderful escape from the world on spring and summer days.

The stone seats below must be so warm in the glow of a late afternoon sun. I’d love sitting there with dear friends, sharing a bottle of wine and visiting contentedly as the sun set.

Italian Alpine house

Eventually we abandoned our happy meanderings and headed higher up into the Alps.

The views that awaited us were stunning.

Northern Italian Alps

Click here to see what we saw from the top of the Alps above Domodossola.

What are your feelings about mountains?

Wandering the Back Streets of Capri, Italy

Wandering the Back Streets of Capri, Italy

β€œI wandered everywhere,
through cities and countries wide.
And everywhere I went,
the world was on my side.”
Roman Payne

One of my favorite things about traveling is time to wander.

Time to actually live out those delicious words: amble, mosey, and stroll.

The back streets of Capri are perfect for such happy perambulations, for they are quiet and shady, far from the clogged alleyways and sun-beaten avenues of the main shopping districts.

I love the painted tiles that adorn the house numbers, perky flowers spilling down white-washed walls, and worn steps that lead to the prettiest doorways.

streets of Capri

The bottles of limoncello lined up so cheerily making me think of long summer days under the trees sipping icy glasses of this sweet nectar.

bottles of limoncello

Of course I’m smitten by the doorways, especially ones that are curved and painted luscious colors. But I also sigh happily at the blue and white tiles adorning footpaths and window casings alike. They bright such coolness to an island so often roasted by sunlight.

blue and white Italian tiles

Where are your favorite places to go wandering?

An Unexpected Mountain Village Near Vogogna, Italy

An Unexpected Mountain Village Near Vogogna, Italy

“I have always been delighted at the prospect of a new day,
a fresh try,
one more start,
with perhaps a bit of magic waiting somewhere behind the morning.”
J. B. Priestley

Thank you so much for the kindness, hugs and support you gave me yesterday.Β  Just sharing my burden with you made it lighter, and I can face this next round of tests with greater strength and courage. XO

Now let us set aside all thoughts of proddings and pokings and return to the village of Vogogna, Italy where (last week) we explored the medieval Visconti Castle.

Just past this imposing edifice is a bumpy stone trail that wends along behind the castle, over a bridge, and past a small stone cottage.

It is not possible, for me at least, to see such a trail and not feel compelled to follow it. Thankfully such notions also appeal to my English friend Katy, so we gamely set off for parts unknown to see what we could see.

stone hut in Italian Alps

Clad in breezy sundresses and strappy sandals we didn’t look even remotely like mountain climbers, but such trifles are not to be considered when there are adventures to be had.

So up we went the increasingly steep trail, treading carefully on stones worn smooth by countless trekkers.

hiking trail near Vogogna

We passed abandoned stone huts overgrown with vines and bushes, sun-dappled rock walls, and berries, ferns and tiny flowers in the underbrush.

As we trekked higher up the mountain, it felt like we had inadvertently stepped into an Italian version of Heidi.

“Are you tired, Heidi?” Deta asked the child.
“No, but hot,” she replied.
“We shall be up in an hour, if you take big steps and climb with all your little might!
Johanna Spyri, Heidi

And we did. πŸ™‚

alpine berries

We stopped often to catch our breath, finding shady spots to rest and visit, turning our heads to catch glimpses of the hazy valley and smoky mountains behind us.

Italian Alps

Our legs were burning and lungs bursting when we trudged around a corner and gaped in wonder at a beautiful little mountain village that seemingly appeared out of nowhere: Genestredo.

Italian stone house

There were no voices, no slamming of doors or static from a radio.

No people or dogs or vehicles and the only sounds were morning birdsong and the gurgle of water from the village spring.

Italian shrine

I don’t know where the inhabitants were, but you could see their mark in tidy courtyards and flower pot lined balconies.

Awash in sunshine and void of noise, the village was indescribably peaceful.

We loved it, and happily wandered the deserted streets dreaming up all sorts of stories about the people who called this tiny place home.

Italian alpine village

I especially wanted to know who lived in this beautiful stone house with its weathered shutters and overflowing window boxes.

Can’t you imagine flinging open the windows on fine days and leaning out on your elbows to take in views of towering peaks and ancient ruins? Or perhaps sitting on that old bench with a dear friend, nattering about the day and watching the townsfolk pass by?

Sigh. Tis a lovely thing to imagine. πŸ™‚

Italian stone house

Next time we’ll continue our trek up the mountain and explore the ruins of an Italian medieval fortress: the Rocca.

Wishing you a beautiful weekend.

xo