Foxes Hill

Foxes Hill Parte 12

The dog wags its tail conspicuously and then lies down on its back, with open legs; he is happy to see me, I understand that he wants me to caress him, and I do it several times, even scratching his belly: sometimes in an energetic way.

I pass in front of the kitchen and I hear the voices of the women, I do not stop, it's not the case, there are too many and all together, and they talk aloud; when any of them mention a name all laugh, and I clearly hear a woman say: "He is a handsome young man!" without, however, understanding whom she was referring".

I go and stand under the tree; it is unlikely that there will be a snake for a second time, and then, with the dog at my side, I feel safe; however, I remain standing, ready to escape.

The men of the thresher machine are working hard; they must be able to place her before the break: I hear this from the man, the driver of the Giardinetta, who gives decisive and peremptory orders and does not allow observations.

In no time at all the thresher is in place and lastly the large and long belt, which connects the tractor to the thresher, is mounted and put in the right tension; Its rotation will set in motion all the organs of the thresher and the sieve; the tractor is switched off.

The men, after having passed from the car, nearby, and each having taken his own bundle, came and sat down in the shade under the tree.

Although each of them had brought it from their own home, the contents of each bundle were practically the same for all: a large piece of bread, cheese, salami and a bottle of red wine; a couple of them, perhaps with their more provident wife, also had some tomatoes in addition.

Everyone takes a switchblade out of his pocket, just for cutting food, and begins to eat.

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And to think that after the unification of Italy, and for several years, in the event of a personal search by the occupying troops, in the rich and peaceful Kingdom of the Two Sicily, where the pellagra was unknown, it was enough to have only a knife in your pocket to be shot immediately on the spot, as a suspected collaborator of the brigands, and without even a regular trial.

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When they started eating, out of politeness, I walked away from them, calling me the dog, and went up to the house.

The man from the Giardinetta and the young man who arrived with him went to the kitchen with the massaro.

Grandma has already cooked, and the dish is ready on the table: spaghetti with tomato and basil and grated pecorino, abundant; for the second plate, some pieces of caciocavallo and some slices of raw ham cut by hand.

After lunch, grandmother went to rest, while I, sitting behind the balcony, remain to read a comic by Tex Willer, found the day before on the stone seat leaning against the garage.

When I finished it, I put it back where I found it.

I'm almost done; there are only a few pages left, when I hear the roar of a tractor that quickly becomes more and more deafening.

"They must have started the threshing machine!", I think at first, but then I realize that it is not the same noise, and then I go out on the balcony; it is Uncle Armando who at full throttle drives his tractor with a trailer attached, and as he passes under me, I see that it is loaded with bales of empty canvas bags.

"They must be the sacks for the grain!" I think while, following him with my eyes, I see him stop near the threshing machine.

So that's why, I wonder, that I haven't seen him since this morning: he went, who knows where, to get the sacks.