Tragedy at Cluckingham Palace leads to new roost.

There was a major failure of the Royal Guard a few weeks ago, and the residents of Cluckingham Palace were decimated.
More than 2 dozens hens have been killed in a crime spree that still is not over.
In a move of desperation, all poultry and waterfowl were moved into a "safe house"- my horse trailer has become their home for the hours of darkness, and the bandit has not figured out how to get to them in there.
We set a trap for the culprit, and it took a while, but eventually we caught one bandit. A very large, and well fed raccoon who nearly filled up the trap was nabbed right in Cluckingham Palace!
Only 6 hens, and two under-protective roosters, had survived his night-time feasts. Since then we have lost two more hens and caught an egg-stealing possum. The loss is depressing.

Which got me wondering- do we really need 30+ chickens? Each year our flock has grown a bit as the kids have gotten baby chicks to raise as 4-H projects. Most of those hens no longer laid many, if any, eggs as they were old biddies. We no longer need a bunch of 4-H hens as Youngest is in his last year of 4-H. And, we do love our eggs, but sometimes we were getting a dozen or more eggs each day!
What if we just had a few hens? What if I could control the buggers better so they don't tear up my gardens, unearth my iris corms, peck at my tomatoes? What if I could do a better job of keeping them safe?
When I lay down to sleep, my brain goes into overdrive most nights, and I have to give it a project to figure out. I let it go through the steps of whatever project, and think of details, work through potential snafus.... and eventually it comes together and I can sleep. Every so often the imagined solution then becomes a reality as I create the project when awake.
So, for a few nights, my brain was given the chicken problem. And, eventually after a few nights of different ideas and then different designs, my solution was to build a chicken tractor.

Welcome to the new smaller, safer royal residence-

Hensington Palace.

 It has a detachable front stair for the ladies to climb and descend.

 It has windows to open on the sides for breeze in the summer months, with hardware cloth built into the structure to prevent critters from coming in through the windows. There is a plexiglass window in the back to let in light in the winter and allow for observing the hens within.  Two large doors open on one side for easy cleaning of the house.

Within is 16 linear feet of roosting room in two different levels so they can choose to roost in the warmer upper level or the cooler main roost.
Three tidy nesting boxes on the side make collecting eggs easy.

Hensington Palace is a mobile home. It is on wheels so we can move it wherever we want the hens. The next phase of the Palace is to make a secure enclosure for the hens to spend their daytime hours. This will all be movable around the farm so the hens can have fresh grass- and do their "doody"- fertilizing all the while.
If you have spent time at Cowfeathers, Hensington Palace may look familiar. I mimicked the design of our mudroom.

Now I need to get the geese and ducks out of my horse trailer!
Hmmm... should I get ready for bed so I can plan out "Ducksembourg Palace"...."Wingsor Castle"...."Fallingwater-fowl"?

Our Pearlie Girl.

Pearl

 I loved Tucker. He was a sweet soul, a steadfast friend, a light in any cloudy day. It was impossible to have a bad day when you also had Tucker. When Tucker's cancer became more fierce than my chemotherapy and radiation, all of my tools of modern western and alternative medicine combined, and he was ready to leave us, he left a hole behind. Too large to fill, it took me some time to start saying "I need another dog for Jules."
Julia had mourned terribly for Tucker, was depressed and listless for many months. Julia, or Jules, is our "black dog". A wire haired mutt seized as a 10 month old by the County for abuse, Julia called me from dog jail and I posted her permanent bail. Jules has been a joy from the first, and took all her cues from Tucker, who taught her well. Now Julia is the "older dog" needing a partner to train.
So I started saying it aloud.
"I am ready for another dog." Not really believing so, but thinking that I would be ready when the opportunity arose. But, truly, I wanted another Golden. Not "like Tucker" because I am too jaded to believe you can recreate the soul of any living creature, but "Tucker-like." Sweet, and kind. Sensitive and devoted.
So, I started saying it aloud.
"I am ready for another Golden." To be true, a Golden Retriever, but the second bit often is left off for the dog types.
I said it at work, and to my friends. Heck, I probably mentioned it to strangers, as I seem to speak to everyone. Last month I found myself "high-fiving" a lady in the grocery store because we kept passing each other in the aisles. I am intrepid by aisle 3... ( Research says that people who speak to strangers are happier, and live longer- I'm gonna be Gram-Gram old. #101 baby! Epley, N., & Schroeder, J. (2014). Mistakenly seeking solitude. Journal of Experimental Psychology: General, 143(5), 1980-1999.)  
I kept putting it out there, and secretly praying for the Golden to arrive in mild weather- I hate house training in the winter!
One of the friends I mentioned it to texted me with a photo of two Goldens. I said "OMG, Adorable!" Followed a few texts later with "I want one!!!"
Well, wouldn't you know, the pair belonged to a family who was needing to re-home one of the dogs after taking on a LOT of life, and then having a house fire that put them out of their house. They wanted to find a loving, caring home for the white haired Golden, and doncha know, I knew just the place! I was there in an hour to meet her and bring her home.
Her name is Pearl.
Now,  Cowfeathers Farm Blog faithful (my mom) will recall we already had a Pearl. Practically Perfect Pearl was Youngest's first pony. She was a grey Arab pony of advanced years and a big heart that gave him the confidence to become the rider his is today (a good one!).  So, my family made some suggestions for a name change for Pearl.
But our sweet Pearl- and she is the sweetest of canines- doesn't see very well. She has some congenital ocular defects that mean she isn't quite blind. If you want to understand what Pearl sees of the world, take you hands, and make fists. Holding the thumb side towards your eyes, place the fists about three inches away from your eyes. Now, quickly, move them back and forth, about 1 inch of sway either way. Try walking, or running. It makes a lot of sense why she will stop and lie down if she feels uncertain!

She is, as I said, the sweetest of dogs. She loves all creatures and has made fast friends with the cats and with Baily, above- a logical friendship as Baily is the Pearl of equines.
We are still working on training, she isn't practically perfect yet! She had a urinary tract infection when she first arrived, but I took care of that right away, and she has taken to house training quickly. But along with her eye problems, tests have shown her kidneys are challenged as well. She tends to "follow her nose" which has gotten her into trouble, as she will find something she is keen on and wander away from her people! So, she still spends a lot of time on leash. She knows how to say "please" and has become rather polite, but she gets excited to see me and wants to put her paw on my leg. She rarely chews, but rarely is not never... okay she is practically perfect.

Welcome to Cowfeathers Farm, Pearl!

50th Birthday...Bustin' out a PSA

When I was very young, I thought all the fireworks and parties around July 4 were for me. Talk about a Princess complex,  right? Perhaps my older sisters suggested this, a joke, to make me look foolish. Perhaps I just misconstrued the facts because the parties started on the 3rd and ended in my birthday- like the build up to Christmas. In any case, I did eventually give that notion up, I don't recall how young, or being at all disappointed, just that it was two separate events. My mom did a great job of making birthdays special with parties my friends still recall. No fireworks, but certainly the occasional sparkler, lots of field games and make-your-own sundaes. Plus, if you're lucky, you get presents on your birthday, so all the hullabaloo around the 4th seemed like second-tier.
A few years have passed. A-Hem. And this week, I flip into a next half-century. It seems like something big. I made it this far! WAY TO GO, ME! I'm well past the years of dangerous decision making, and boy did I make some doozies. Lived through every one of 'em. I had great luck.
Maybe someday I'll share the ones I can remember. I think my personality is the type that lives forward a lot, and my memory leaves out a lot of the details. I'm frequently surprised by things my long time friends bring up of which I have zero recollection, or sometimes a vague sense of familiarity. My dangerous plans nowadays usually include a horse. Still, I have become more cautious.
And yet, despite this auspicious anniversary, I have no plans to have a big 50 celebration. I have been kind of ill this year, and it zaps your energy most soundly. So it will be a low-key birthday, maybe I'll see if I can drum up some zoom-zoom for 50.5.

I did take on a task I think every woman over 18 should do around her birthday each year, and gets more weighty with accumulating years. I went bra shopping.
Bras are expensive.  But they get a lot of use, wear out even with hand washing and air drying and should be replaced before they lose their "oomph". And even though they are only be seen by those you are most close with; your husband, best girlfriends, immediate family, they change the way the clothes fit on the outside. Like good posture for bosoms, they can change the way you feel as you move about in the world, boobs forward preferred. So, they are worth the effort to make sure they fit, and are reasonably comfortable.
I remember getting off a plane, or home from a trip as an early 20 something, and I hadn't seen my eldest sister in a long time. She didn't even greet me before grabbing my bra straps and saying "You gotta get those things up!" Your sister will tell you straight, and she wasn't wrong. She hasn't had to do that to me since. Advice taken.
So, after my morning visit to the dentist and before my cruise through Costco (the white peaches are in!!), I went to the breast place in Central Ohio for brassieres; Columbus based Victoria's Secret. The Easton store is enormous, and overwhelming, but I don't care. I don't have to figure it out. I just bounce right back to the fitting room, because VS is the boss when it comes to Bustomer Service. I tell the saleswoman, Anise, I need to be fitted for bras, and I'm looking for a practical everyday option, and something a bit less so- it is my birthday! Anise is a young woman with a tape measure around her neck, and that perfect "no-nonsense" attitude you need when a stranger is sizing up your chest. She looks at me and announces I am "probably a (size here), but we don't have that size so I'll see if we can fit you into a (one size smaller)." Then she measures me, and nods in satisfaction. Anise is an expert confirming her assessment. I am in good hands. (I elected to leave my size out, as that is TMI, and when I wrote it, I rolled my own eyes, so insert obscurity. Don't want to cause ocular injury to my readers. Also, a word to the uninitiated- a bra is measured around your ribcage below the breasts, where the strap will sit. That is the number portion of the size. Then, the fullest part of the bust is measured. That is the letter portion. Each inch of difference between the ribcage measurement and the full bust measurement gives you a letter increase. An "A" cup is one inch bigger. For some reason once they get to the letter "D" They just accumulate "D"s, up to three. Then, skipping E and F, they bounce back to "G" and so-on. It is really, REALLY important get measured and to try on bras. They do not all fit alike! But, remember bra size is just a number and a letter. It is not your identitty....)
She disappears from my dressing room and returns with a black bra with a pink ribbon tied to the strap. The ribbon denotes that it is a try-on bra. In the fitting area, they keep all types of bras in a try-on version, so you can find the size and design you want. I try on a passel of black bras with pink ribbons, and Anise writes the size and style of my selections on a card.  When I need a different size, or advice, I push a little button that causes Anise to knock and get me settled.
She brings me one that has so many straps and bits to it, I have to figure out how it works, like trouble shooting a broken lawn mower. I wonder if 50 year olds should just say "no" to complicated bras. I decide the answer is yes, I need a bra that can be used without trouble shooting. But, I am here, so I give it a try. I press the button, because even though it is on, I can't believe I've got it on correctly. Anise arrives and tells me "that's right! And it looks awesome!" To me it looks like a ratchet tie down and Batman had a bra-baby. I ask for something a little more "classic".
Anise delivers with a few bras that are softer, and pretty. I have her note down two pretty bras that I like. I tell her, "maybe two pretty ones- tomorrow is my fiftieth birthday!" Her eyes get big as she does a quick scan of me in my underwear and declares "Wow! You look great for 50!" I know this is meant to flat-ter, and very sweet... supportive even... but it makes me instantly wonder, for what age do I look gruesome? Just "meh"? What birthday number would get a "Poor dear, I'm sure you're a very kind soul." I decide not to ask, don't need to know.
Decisions made, clothes back on, she takes me out to the store and shows me what colors my bra choices come in, dashes upstairs to what I picture is a warehouse of bras and panties to check for my hard to find size in preferred colors. I thank Anise for her help and check out, birthday bras in the pink and pink striped bag, pink leopard print tissue puffing out, just so.
Boobs forward to face the blessing of a new half-century.

Venice? Worth the trip and expense?

So, our family has once again been tumbling about in the electric dryer of schedules. The cycle is over and now find myself at that treasured time of year where we slow down, and "life" gets cancelled for snow and ice and true life can blossom in the snow.
 Today, simple goals of a clean kitchen, a cake cooling on the racks, sitting next to the fire and reading The Biggle Horse Book, A Concise and Practical Treatise on the Horse, Adapted to the Needs of Farmers and Others Who have a Kindly Regard for This Noble Servitor of Man.  The title is a bit wordy, but I do love the advice thus far, penned in 1894. And still quite relevant.

"The three greatest enemies of the horse are idleness, fat and a dumb blacksmith." Harriet Biggle.

"If you must put frosty bits in some mouths, let it be your own. Suffering begets sympathy." John Tucker


Huz is unfortunately off getting a new tire on his 16 year old car- he's going for 400k miles- and it has begun snowing in earnest, so a new tire may help him return. He and Youngest switched his flat on Thursday evening in the rainy dark- but it was a warm(ish) night. Winter swiftly returned to the roost. I will be glad to have him back home, but may end up fetching him with the 4x4 truck.


And with this snow, I have had more time to think about our wonderful trips of 2017. Recently, a friend asked me if I'd ever been to Venice, and I realized that a trip down memory lane would be great fun on this blog, and maybe it would help her plan her own impending visit to Venice!

Let me start by sharing that I was not the most enthusiastic visitor to Venice. I feel that now sounds petulant,  but I am not fond of crowds, and my understanding was that Venice is small town with a huge tourist population- in other words,  "a crush". But, as Huz and I were going to be so close by in Verona, it seemed like an opportunity of a lifetime to see such a famous city. In fact, I was the one who said "Let's just go."
We made a hotel reservation when my checking around indicated there were fewer options left every day, and so we picked in a "dart-at-board" fashion.
Other than purchasing my guide books- Rick Steves Italy and the Venice Pocket Guide by the same author, I did very little learning about our destination.
That was a mistake. Although Huz and I are easy travelers, great walkers and fine about "winging it", I should have made a greater effort at understanding Venice, because boy, did I have questions once I got there! The city is fascinating, and mysterious, and I wanted to know so much more than what my guidebooks could answer. Since returning home I have added one more book to my Venice list, one that I should have read before going. It is called Venice, A New History by Thomas F. Madden. Now, I wish I could return to do it all again, knowing a LOT more.
The first thing I should have made an effort to understand was the Vaporetto system. We arrived at the train station at one end of the Grand Canal, and could find no information booth or help, so asked a portabagagli- or luggage porter, how far it was to our hotel. He said 20 minutes, and we declined his help and began walking.

 What we did not know, and should have, was that there was a Vaporetto station at the train station that would have taken us right to the front of our hotel! A Vaporetto is a boat that is the "bus" of Venice. It goes up and down the Grand Canal, stopping along the way. The 20 minutes was optimistic, and we only had an address in a notoriously confusing city, but without much trouble, we found our way.
Our dumb luck, we had booked a gorgeous room in an amazing location, right on the Grand Canal. Venice is split, in a  "S" shaped ribbon by the Grand Canal, and the town focuses largely on this watery thoroughfare.
Hotel Pesaro Palace is located in a palazzo, or what was once a very grand house for a wealthy Venice merchant.

Huz, in the mirror, making sure he has wifi, no doubt.

 Our room overlooked the palazzo courtyard and the Ca d'Oro, or House of Gold, one of the ornate ancient palazzos in Venice. It is now a museum.
If you looked to the right from our room the Grand Canal was a buzz.
Across the Grand Canal was the Fish Market.

In the market, on market day, you can buy fish!

Produce!
Boy, do I want to fill a bag with the stuff in this photo. 

  The posted limits for the quality of the fish being offered:

Advice: find tucked away small cafes and every late afternoon/evening have an Aperol Spritz. It is a thing for a reason. Dinner can come later, much later, if you like!

In our wanders we found these dapper red striped fellows climbing aboard their boat. It turned out that afternoon was a full on Venice style Parade and Regatta!

 The famed Rialto Bridge, normally teeming with people was closed for the event.

 
We found a spot to watch (and yes, it was a crush!)

We do a lot of parades in Ohio. After 18 years here I know a parade when I see one. This was a Parade. On boats. I'm thinking this is where the tradition of Parades got started, as it makes sense why they are called "floats" now.  This float combined the musicianship of the Adelphi Band with the royal personages of the Pumpkin Show Queen and court. 
Yes, I am comparing Venice to Circleville, Ohio's Pumpkin Show Parade.

 They even had horses!

 After the royal floats all passed, dozens of teams competing in the races rowed past to great acclaim. They even had a Team USA!  The photo above shows our hotel, on the left, and the hotel next to it with the art sculpture "Support" by Lorenzo Quinn, symbolizing hands holding the building from falling into the water.

 Venice is for walkers. As in people who walk, not devices meant to help with such. There are thousands of little bridges, and you want to peer at the crumbling majesty visible on every one
The rabbit-warren of little alleys that is the main way of getting around can make you feel dizzy. A good sense of direction will help. A compass may help if you don't have one of those, and always give yourself leeway to not be where you thought you'd be.
Pay attention, lest you end in a canal.

Those "oops" moments are always a bit of a fun surprise.

Keep an eye out for the Gondolas when you are on a bigger bridge, you can peer over the edge and watch this tourist moment!

 
Advice: Go ahead a see the freakishly ornate St. Mark's Cathedral, and the Doge's Palace, take a Gondola ride, etc. But, take time to notice all the amazing little bits of Venice; the tape holding it together, the laundry hanging out the windows, the garbage boat and the windowsill herb gardens.

Advice: Go to Saint Marks Square, or Piazza San Marco, in the morning and late afternoon. In the midday it is full of tourists off the cruise boats, and you will, again, be in the crush.
This is the glorious building lit up by the late afternoon sun.

We enjoyed a tour of St. Marks and a climb to the top in the morning, with fewer crowds. The horses atop the cathedral are replicas of the originals, but the originals, stolen from Constantinople by Doge Enrico Dandolo on a Crusade, are still housed in the top of the cathedral.

Advice: Grab a ride from one end of Venice to the other on a Vaporetto. It is an inexpensive way to tour the Grand Canal. We chose late afternoon when the crowd traffic was lighter.  The homes on the Grand Canal were the show pieces of the wealthiest families of Venice. They are falling to bits in a lot of places now, but keep your eyes peeled and you can still see how ornate they once were.

This is a mosaic on the front of a palazzo, along with trompe l'oeil  painting. I don't' know where the rest of the person went that should be attached to that arm, but I think it was Jesus, (the Venetians of old were devoted Catholics- I'm sure many still are) and these are artisans, paint or sculpture, discussing the art. I particularly like the "one red leg one brown leg" tights.

 
Advice: in the afternoon, head out away from Rialto in any direction until you get away from the tourist areas. The Campos (paved "field" near each church) will be filled with kids playing "football".  Some of the Campos will have a small cafe where you can sit in the campo and enjoy an Aperol Spritz!

Advice: Restaurants. We found a few misses, but our big hits were dinner at  Vecia Cavana, where the food was wonderful, tons of local families and regulars and a wait staff that was happy to make us feel at home. Of course, if you don't live in O"hi"O, you may not be quite as comfortable!

Our other favorite was lunch at Pizzeria Oke. It is right on the water, and extra props for serving a vegetarian, gluten-free pizza that was as good as it looks. Watering Mouth Now.
And, don't forget the gelato. Our favorites were from the non-chain places, and it sounds ridiculous to say, as it seems to be the same advice everyone gives. I don't really like ice cream very much. But, after a day of tromping around the city, exploring, getting lost to find yourself something great, some evenings all I really wanted was a gelato and some sleep! It really is that good.


Final Bit of Advice: if you have a chance to see Venice, go.

Sill Skill- repairing old wood and the want of Skilled Workers

"It is hard to find skilled help, plumbing, electric, painters, all that! I can't get anyone to come out here." I spoke with Mom on the phone yesterday. My parents live on a lovely home on the water, but it is pretty distant from any large metro area, and not in the "country" - of middle America, where we have active Vo-Tech programs.
She also pointed out that Houston, Florida, northern Cali, large areas devastated by recent natural disasters are going to be rebuilding- and do those areas have the labor force skilled in the tasks needed for so much at once?
We live in rural Ohio- not the most rural, still... In my Connecticut high school, we had student council, soccer and orchestra. Here? FFA, football and Marching Band. ( There certainly is a student council...pretty sure...but I don't think an orchestra?) And out of high school in CT, you went to College. Or University. But in our area, although those are still options, and many do go on to college or uni, a large chunk of high schoolers leave the high school every day for Vocational Technical College. There they learn skills like the ones my Mom needs to hire. I think that makes us lucky. I can find a plumber, or an electrician, or a car mechanic. And the country life means many kids are farm kids that know how to operate large machinery and fix diesel engines, let alone jump start a car or change a tire. (Even in Connecticut, my Dad made sure his daughters also had those last two skills.)
Some things are still hard to find here, though. It was challenging to find someone to fix a wonky beam in my 200 year old barn last year but, done.
Also have yet to find a skilled painter/restorer for the soffiting and trim on our 200 year old house. I'm afraid it will be me in a cherry picker.

I did find a nice fix for the aged sills. Thanks to advice from Tom K. who, with his wife Leslie, took on the project of restoring this once abandoned farmstead (see The Big Daddy of Before and Afters from May 2017) and pointed me in the direction of a newer wood repair product, Abatron.
Every few years, I have had to re-do the sills by peeling off the already peeling paint, filling the sills with wood filler and repainting. It just doesn't last. I have great hope for this product giving me a reprieve from the repeated repairs!

 This is what the sill looked like after removing the peeling paint. The shape is meant to be a bullnose, but so much wood is deteriorated, there isn't much original shape left.

A close-up of the most damaged portion.

This section is in the best shape. You can see bits of the wood filler left in some of the horizontal cracks.

The Abatron Liquid Wood gets poured and brushed into the exposed, damaged wood. Then you mix together the Wood Epox and make a new sill where the old wood has disappeared. I just kept piling more Wood Epox on and smoothing it out. I found it really important to have good gloves- like nitrile or latex, and a little water to help smooth it out.
Below is how it looked before it dried. After it was dry, I then could sand it down to be nice and smooth.

 I was not pleased with the dip at the bottom, but I ran out of Wood Epox! Having never before used the product, I had a lot of Liquid Wood left over and used all of the epoxy. I can't find it locally, and order it from Amazon, so I couldn't quickly remedy the situation. (We do not have 2 hour Amazon here!)

This is how the sill looked after it was dried and sanded.

And finished with a new coat of paint. That is the worst of the sills. Only more minor repairs to do in about 13 more. So this window has a repaired and repainted sill, plus both shutters. And, still, I need to work on the top of the window!
Maybe I could petition they begin to teach "Sill Repair and Painting of Old Houses" at the Vo-Tech?

Vicenza, Italy. A Day Trip.

Ciao. It is a lovely, warm day in central Ohio, and a perfect opportunity to share memories of a beautiful day in northern Italy! 

As I've mentioned, when we are on these conference-centric trips, Huz heads off in the early hours to his lectures and lunches, and I head off to adventures. Works for me! I have managed to find great travel companions at times, and this day was rich with good company. 

 Steve and Matt, with whom I had walked the Verona bastions, and explored the Arsenal and Castelvecchio joined me again, and we were lucky enough to add a fourth in Shane. 

The crew looked to the cruise director and asked the plan. I didn't have one. But, I do like to get off the beaten track. I truly enjoy the big cities and famous places, but when I look back on these trips, often my favorite memories involve finding the smaller places, the quieter hamlets and discovering what they have to offer. 

So, a few words with the hotel reception desk, and we headed off to Porta Nuova Stazione and platform 3 to await the train to Vicenza. At the hotel, I had googled "Vicenza" and up popped some of the sights to be found in this small town between Verona and Venice. 

Aqueduct. Roman. Sold. I have never seen one, and I recall being fascinated by the idea of the Roman Aqueduct in middle school. I think I even made a model of an aqueduct in a single grade. 6th? Plus, hours spent playing with water and gravity in the Little River next to Puckihuddle- my childhood home, had me motivated to see the real deal. The location was Fogazarro... which may have been a bit vague for most adventurers, but we had time, and my companions were an engineer, a roofing and guttering specialist and a general contractor/pilot. So, my sell didn't have to be hard. Basically, I said "Vicenza has an aqueduct."

We arrived in Vicenza and headed in the direction that seemed to lead to town. 

 On the way we found a helpful map. It did not list our quarry-the aquaduct, but we found a Corso Fogazarro, and headed north as indicated. To the east was the obvious entrance, through a formidable wall and tower into the town, but we headed through these lovely gates instead to a green space. 

This lovely building over water, so quiet and peaceful was in a garden, the Park Giardino Salvi. 

Quite fine. But, it is not an aqueduct. 

We headed out of the park and into town north of the gardens. Finding Fogazzaro. We headed out in search of Roman delights. 

 In front of the Parrochia di Santa Croce ai Carmini was an assembly of well dressed people. It appeared as if we had happened upon a wedding! So, we searched the crowd for the bride and groom, and couldn't definitively identify a groom- there were several possible candidates, but no apparent bride. Until a flash of white down the street caught my attention and I pointed it out to my companions. A bride, facing a gent who was pulling the veil over her face. Could we have just happened upon a father about to walk his daughter to the church? The aqueduct has been here for 1000 years, and can wait!

And, here comes the bride! But, unusually, her stride is quite, long. And she is very tall. And she is wearing rather large trainers. And, as she gets near us, she has an impressive amount of facial scruff. My friends, that is a dude. Maybe we are at a gay wedding? Not expected, but still cool. As the bride was presented to the fellow we could now assume was the groom, the crowd response, and theatrical "kiss" and "dip" made it clear we were just witnessing the age old pastime of dudes everywhere. Taking the mick out of their buddy on his wedding day. Or, since this is Italy," far ridere i polli. "

 So, enough of this nonsense, we have an aqueduct to find. 

We walk up to the Rio Bacchiglione, and water seems like a logical place for an aqueduct?  Sure enough there is a ruin across the water. It doesn't look Roman... more medieval. Still, worth checking out. So, we find a bridge to cross and then into someone's back yard to get closer to this structure, deciding, nope. Not aqueductal. 

It is a cool portion of the medieval wall, with some serious Goldilocks and the Three Bears choices for entering and leaving. 

Consulting the map on cell phone says we are off track, and so make our way back to Fogazzaro. The wedding party is no longer in front of the church. And we are stumped in finding our aqueduct. Steve heads off to chat up a nun in the square to see if he can suss it out.

 I head into a pharmacy to ask the old gentleman behind the counter. "Dov'è l'aqueduct romano?" I say.  He replies that he's never heard of it. Hmmmm. So, I ask him " Avanti Corso Fogazzaro, c'è qualcoso di romano? 

Now, my Italian is terrible, but he is trying to understand. I ask "Parla inglese?" He does not. But he does not know "aqueduct." It is unclear to me if it is the word, as they may call them something else in Italian? Or, he knows what I mean, but has never heard of one here. He instead draws me a lovely map in shaky hand to the Piazza dei Signori. I want to stay and plague him more, as the shop is empty. But, it is about 120 degrees F in the shop, and smells strongly of camphor, and I must dash. So, I tell him, "Grazie mille!" and head back out into the street.

 Steve has not gotten anywhere with the nun. I tell my companions that a local thinks there is no aqueduct here. We may be out of luck.

So, we head down the sidewalk towards down town, feeling a failure. 

Until I stepped on this.

 A glass window in the sidewalk on Fogazzaro. We decide that it is a tad anticlimactic, but this is our aqueduct. When you pay to see the "Two Headed Boy!" at the sideshow, and it is a kid holding a puppet. 

But, undeterred, there is still much to see.

The very pretty Piazzo dei Signori is a great destination, thank you Signore old pharmacist guy! 

The dominant building in the Piazza is the Basilica Palladiana. In our wandering of Vicenza, we find that Palladia was an architect in the 16th century that held great fame. He designed many buildings in Vicenza, more here than in any other city. So, it is a World Heritage sight for Palladian buildings. Now, in the US, we have many buildings of the 1990s that feature Palladian windows...and as far as I know, World Heritage has yet to recognize us for this, but, whatever. 

My adventuring fellows note there are people on the roof. So, we head to the Basilica to see if we can join them. Plus, there are statues on the loggia roof that are intriguing. Especially the single statue on right, just shy of the corner, that appears to be wearing verdigris copper boots. I like the look, and am curious about the fashion choice. 

We pay a few euro for access to the second and third story views. 

Totally worth it. 

On the top story, we enter the wide marble terrace ringed by statues in various states of decay. And, I go in pursuit of my copper-booted pal, recognizing that boots would be impractical, as he's naked. And only an impractical fellow would protect his shins and let his bits lead the way. 

 It seems the copper was devised as a way to protect the statue from crumbling to the piazza below. 

In fact, most of the statues are reinforced in some way. And looking a bit rounded and pocked. 

I decided to take a panoramic photo, and my fellow travelers had a bit of fun with it. Speedy boys. (Do you see?)

We had a cappucino and un aqua frizzante at the rooftop cafe, and headed back to the piazza. 

In the square below are the now familiar tall columns we had seen in Verona, with the winged lion of Venice atop one. A bit shorter was this colorful creation, that looked to be painted wood? It also looked like it may have been temporary, brought out for a festival, perhaps. But is was so pretty, especially with the blue, orange, rose and yellows surrounding it. 

Our course was toward the other side of town, and the Teatro Olimpico. Not sure what it is, just that it seemed like a destination. Also, it was where the tourism office was located (as far as is possible from the train station and still be in the town- Perchè?)

We found the entrance marked " Teatro Olimpico" and walked into this courtyard, sort of a Roman yard sale. All around were bits and pieces of architectural detritus, a wonder to behold. A promenade around the courtyard yielded an inestimable opportunity to become an instant goddess. I said "YES!" 

Okay, maybe slightly out of proportion to my body, but hey, I'm the Goddess of...music and toilet paper? 

Steve (talks to everyone) stuck his head in a window and had a grand conversation with the man inside, and I tried to figure out how to get into this Teatro...which I assume is a theater. 

Finding the Tourism Office seemed the ticket ....to a ticket. And yes, that is correct. I also got a map of Vicenza to carry around- finally, and some words of wisdom about Andrea Palladio. Shane elected to join me in checking out the inside of the theater. Of all my traveling companions, Shane seemed to be the most concerned about my getting lost, or left behind. A fine trait in a traveling companion! 

Inside it was as hushed as a church. The theater seating was rounded to the stage, great hulking wooden risers with tiny little stairs to mark the aisles. The theater is still in use, and it seems that with your ticket, you find your seat by the red cushions they place on these wooden risers, each cushion marked with a seat number. But, with no performance happening, we just found ourselves a place on a wooden seat, polished by 450 years of hineys. 

The stage is elaborate, and looks like a Roman street. Three entrances to the front of the stage, one in center, one each side, are sloped and lined with buildings that get tinier as they recede. It is a beautiful piece of scenery. It is certainly possible, timing wise, that Shakespearean plays were hosted here when the theater was new. 

Have a seat. The orchestra is tuning up......

While we have been in the theater, although there is no actual orchestra, Mother Nature is tuning up outside, indeed to have a nice little thunderstorm. Our band decides to find lunch. The TO fellow recommends a vegetarian place near the main gates- on the other side of town- and we head off. Matt is likewise a vegetarian, so it isn't just for me. And, Steve and Shane are uncomplaining. Another fine trait in traveling companions. 

A brisk walk across town shows us our next "fail" for the day. No aqueduct, and the vege place is closed. 

By now, it is getting late for lunch and the rain is nearly here, so we just dash into the next open restaurant. I explain my eating limits to a doubtful waitress, and then ask for "Un piatto di formaggio?"  She looks a bit more optimistic with this and takes the orders of the fellows. As we start into our bottle of wine, the rain starts coming down outside, and the open window next to me bangs shut in the wind. 

I am delivered this plate of heaven. 

This is how you walk 9 miles a day and gain 2 pounds. 

The restaurant restroom was unisex with this little bit of stick figure humor...

As we finish our meal, the rain finishes too- very accommodating. 

We head back to the train and to Verona to the next EVDI dinner adventure! 

 Good traveling, guys!