more vicarious Italy

"On New Year's Eve, I am coming home from town with a carload of groceries. We're cooking the traditional lentils (tiny coin shapes are the symbol of prosperity) and zampone, sausage in the shape of a pig's foot. As I climb the road toward home, I pass the dome of Santa Maria Nuova below me. Fog completely surrounds the church and the dome floats above the clouds. Five intersecting rainbows dive and arch around the dome. I almost run off the road. At the curve, I stop and get out, wishing everyone were with me. This is staggering. If it were the Middle Ages, I'd claim a miracle. Another car stops and a man dressed in fancy hunting clothes jumps out. Probably he is one of the murderers of song birds but he, too, looks stunned. We both just stare. As the clouds shift, the rainbows disappear one by one but the dome still drifts, ready for any sign that might be about to happen. I wave to the hunter. 'Auguri', he calls."

                                    Under the Tuscan Sun,  Frances Mayes