As we make our way into the maze of little streets we’re greeted by an elderly man with a kind face and a gap-toothed smile. He reassures us that the shops won’t close until 7 p.m., which gives us 2 ½ hours to explore and find what we need. He points us toward a small piazza at the end of the street, and wishes us well with a wave and a “buona serata, Signore.” We pop out by St. Peter’s church, the parish church whose stone entrance is topped with a lovely gilded mosaic “Principes apostolorum.” Opposite the church is a little corner bar pizzeria, and between the two, the little square is decorated with big gorgeous terra cotta pots shaped like bird baths, and spilling over with geraniums. I consult with the woman who runs the bar and she points us to the best places to get our meats, bread, and groceries.
Before we make our way to the shops, we can’t resist taking photographs of the square, the flowers, and surrounding streets. Although the town is quiet this time of day, it’s still so welcoming. The ancient architecture is neither cold nor distant; it’s inviting, warm and tactile. Stern-looking studded wooden doors are cheered by flowers mounted on either side here, a softly flourished house number there.
The streets are as immaculate as they are narrow. When a car does try to make its way by us on the way to the top of town, we have to flatten ourselves into doorways to let it past. That’s the way it’s done in the Tuscan hills. Stepping back into the street, Trish spots a small plaque on the wall opposite. It’s a silhouette of a monk with a walking stick, flanked by two arrows pointing in opposite directions. We wonder at it, but with no one around to ask, we continue meandering, past St. Agatha’s Church, in full restoration mode, with plenty of plaster dust to prove it.
We come to a sign for our destination, “Paneficio Alimentari”, nailed to the side of an arched alleyway. We turn left and follow it up and through to a small cobbled courtyard. Just inside, an elderly woman bustles around her doorway watering a profusion of potted flowers in bloom. Terra cotta of graduated heights and diameters spills over with foliage and blossoms in different colors and shades of green. What is it about terra cotta that makes me want to sink my hands into the earth and plant something? It’s terra cotta, baked earth, elemental and organic. The woman greets us silently with a nod. On behalf of the Ladies I introduce myself, and ask her name. Fedora. Would she mind if we took photos of her and her garden? Somewhat bashfully, she accepts. She’s proud of her container garden.
As we chat and snap away, our conversation attracts attention, and the second story window across from Fedora’s sways open. Her neighbor peeks out, so we invite her to join our photo opp. Gina, a crinkly, twinkly-eyed soul, giggles as we call up to her and click our cameras in her direction. We chat with them both a few minutes more; I translate for Americans and Italians, happy to enter the lives of two people who have lived and breathed Radicòfani the length of their lives. They wave us to the grocery across the courtyard and tell us we’ll find everything we need there.
We’re about to experience Silvana, Ground Zero and HQ for all the news in Radicòfani, current and historic. We are in for a treat!
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