Every morning as the water heats up in my Moka coffee pot, I
look out the window of the 2nd floor kitchen. The view across the street includes a formal
garden in a building owned by the Academy but rented out to the American
representative to the Vatican. Beyond,
down the hill of the Janiculum, is the city center. And framing the view are a group of
remarkable umbrella pines, to me the symbol of the city. They are more powerful even than the ruins. When
I first flew into Rome, in 1984, I remember seeing the pines from the
plane. I was reminded of this when I
arrived last Monday morning in the rain.
I saw a huge stand of the trees near the coast and know that my Roman
adventure had begun.
What is it about these trees that so evokes a place?
I hope to spend more time exploring their story – their
natural history and human history – in the coming weeks.
For now, I think I’ll listen to Respighi’s Pini di Roma (Pines
of Rome), which Eric Nathan pointed me to.
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