Last night I had a strange dream. We were all in Venice and riding a speedboat through the canals. A sweet older Italian man was our guide. It was a warm, sunny day. We stopped at a cafe for coffee and had a fun chat. We were laughing and having a good time. Later, we went back to the townhouse we were living in and into a little garden. I checked my big composter in the garden and was excited that I had made dirt.
Yes, that was my dream - composting in Venice. It sounds strange, until you understand where my mind got the pieces from. Yesterday I was preparing to row Papa Piccolo for my co-op class this week. The leaves are starting to turn and last year I filled my composter with leaves and haven't check it since then to see what I made. My ex-father-in-law is a wonderful sweet little Italian man that I still love. My strange little dream isn't so strange after all.