friday (ok really two fridays ago i started writing this last week and got distracted) four of us from the school pile into Lorenzo's, the painting teachers, car and drive two hours to the rock where Saint Francis received the stigmata. I now know that San Francisco is named after this man. Years after his death a devotional center was created upon these giant cliffs, with several tiny chapels, churches and trees. we take lunch into the hills and watch the rolling country side with crisp browning leaves we sit. Lorenzo makes a joke about my feet and mentions that he thinks they are very strange. maybe just passing the time.....maybe trying to point out that somehow our humanity is full of all kinds of strange and different shapes and sizes...maybe he is right...maybe i just have strange feet.....i mean have you ever seen me climb a tree? im not one to boast...but hey.... since were on the subject im a pretty good tree climber.

see Lorenzo is very peculiar person.....difficult to describe in words but for a lack anytwo better fitting: "big kid" may be the most appropriate (he must be seventy by now)....i guess any of the really interesting painters or painting instructors that i have run into over the years sort of somehow blend into these two words....... i want to tell him that within the last six months three different people have mentioned that they thought i had beautiful hands....ha! whens the last time somebody told you that you had beautiful hands (Lorenzo).... better yet, hands that would be perfect for mountain climbing....maybe even professional modeling? its really true..well maybe not the modeling......but my wits always seem to be somewhere else when i need them most...

we spend maybe two hours between the woods and the tiny village and make our way back into the countryside. fighting sleep i remember the feeling moving with the car in the hills on our previous ride there. Alonzo and Jackie get motion sickness easily and i usually dont.... at least not anymore....but i began to remember all the airplane rides until i was eleven and those little airsick bags....yeah i was one of those kids you never wanted to sit next to on the plane.... i mentioned to them since they are trying not to become motion sick that maybe i will try the opposite. maybe this will help the situation? instead it just made me very relaxed and while having the window down listening to John Coltrane "ballads" and breathing the crisp Tuscany air watching the autumn trees stretch out and begin rolling through the distance. i find myself feeling incredibly at peace. 

upon arrival of the Fransiscan community Lorenzo changes the music to opera.....we sit in a parked car for the duration of the song which he gives more volume. we sit in silence as we all either close our eyes or stare out the window. not a movement until the song was finished. no need to even attempt to communicate to one another....we are all in our own little worlds...and it was a great contrast of sharing the busy streets of Florence..... not a sound beyond the laser in the cd player reading the inscriptions on the flimsy piece of plastic rotating around and around. 

half way back to florence i convince Lorenzo to drop us off at a hiking trail where we will climb into the mountains and camp for the night......actually i was sleepy and he was probably more excited then i was and woke me up saying that we are now in the state park....that the trail was not too far.....this is when i remembered that i had brought my sleeping bag. as soon as we arrive a small sprinkle of rain challenged our aspirations, yet we say our goodbyes and left Lorenzo with a wave of our hands as he drove off. ok actually we all gave him hugs. Jackie seemed deterred from the rainfall and also continued on to Florence and mentioned that the image of her warm cosy bed kept coming to mind. she didn't not realize that we truly love sleeping in the cold rain.....(?)

we had about two hours left of daylight and about a two hour climb ahead of us. Kate gives Alonzo and i Native American beaded jewelry to tie around our heads. we collect walking sticks on our way. we begin to be in touch with our spirit animals....alonzo the boar me the squirrel...kate the guinea pig.

the contrast of trees hides the suns setting upon leaves of yellow orange green and red. through the forest upon the outskirts the leaves dance and light up. they look as though they are on fire. periodically we play rock paper scissors for what way we should turn when we stumble upon a new path. thankfully we know that all we need to do is continue upwards. but when the opportunity arrises to play rock paper scissors.....its hard to pass up.  

 we see wild boars and clutch or walking sticks tightly. Lorenzo said there would be no wild boars but only wolves. we decidedly accepted the fact in  our minds that there may be wolves but the boars put us on edge. but alas no squirrel or guinea pigs (sad face).

at the top we find an electrical station with minor disappointment. it is dark and rainy. we decide to navigate around the florescent lights and find a plateau with rolling hills stretching off into the distance. through bushes and tall grass we manage to find a spot that seems promising. even though we discover civilization a stones throw away we manage to find the rugged outdoors again.

after thirty minutes in our attempt to start a fire in the rain we succeed and the rain stops. our clothing dries and we talk about buttered popcorn from the theaters, candlewax sculptures of dead presidents and the previous dream i had about how all of my hair grew really long until i couldn't walk any longer because i would cumbersomely trip and fall. Alonzo mentions that we are hovering in outer-space on a planet.....we then look up into the stars and forget to talk for almost a full ten minutes. this is when everything could be heard. the moisture from the plants seeping into the soil. the gentle sway of the wind. the humm of an electrical building in the distance. these are when some of the best conversations begin.

(                                                                                             )

growing tired and assuming that the rain had stopped for the night we decide to lay atop the rain fly to stay off the damp earth. about an hour after falling asleep we are awaken by a sudden downpour. our sleeping bags become wet and cold. i manage to finagle (yes i agree...amazing word!) the rainfly around us like a little protective cocoon. in the morning the mist sits over the hills. the fire is back to flames. the trees and bushes are a different color. our feet are wet and we go hunting for boar.