The Buzz

JULY 2026

Hey everyone,

July's been a lot — a wedding in Oregon, a chicken rebellion, a garden that's finally hitting its stride, and a medical saga Brian would rather forget. Piano, piano, as always. Here's what's been going on at the farmhouse this month.

From the Coop

We recently got back from six days in Oregon for our son's wedding — beautiful, exhausting, wonderful, all of it. Massimo came by every day to check on the girls while we were gone, so I didn't have to worry about them them.

What I didn't expect was coming home to a full-blown chicken rebellion. This time, Prissy and Gertie decided, apparently in unison, that this was the moment to go broody — they parked in the nesting boxes, puffed up, hissing at anyone who came near, absolutely committed to sitting on non-existent eggs that were never going to hatch. It's a whole personality shift. Sweet, easygoing hens like Gertie turn into tiny feathered dictators overnight.

And here's the part that really got me: the other hens couldn't even get near the nesting boxes for the first week — Prissy and Gertie were guarding them like a couple of bouncers. By the time they finally backed off, the rest of the flock needed another week to get back into the rhythm of laying. Two weeks, total, before we saw a single egg. Our basket was embarrassingly empty for a while there.

Meanwhile, the heat has been brutal — we're hovering around 40°C most afternoons — and the girls have made it very clear where they'd rather be: sprawled in the shade under the car, or camped out under the walnut tree, looking thoroughly unbothered by the fact that they're supposed to be, you know, productive members of this farm.

Piano, piano. They'll get back to it.

On Our Table

No real recipe this month — because honestly, we don't need one. We've just been eating straight out of the garden, and it's the best kind of lazy cooking there is.

The eggplant's been going on the grill almost weekly — a little olive oil, salt, done. We had exactly one zucchini so far (one!), but the summer squash — Brian's favorite — is coming in strong, so that's more than made up for it. The tomatoes are just starting to turn red, the peppers are still holding out on us, green and stubborn, and the basil... the basil is completely out of control, in the best way. We can't use it fast enough.

This is the kind of month where dinner is whatever's ripe, thrown on the grill or into a pan with olive oil and garlic, and it's somehow always exactly what we wanted.

In the Vineyard

The vines are having a moment. Despite the heat, they're pushing strong new growth and doing everything in their power to produce grapes — which I then snip off daily, because we're still in the "roots first, fruit later" phase and the vines have not been consulted on this decision.

Here's the thing that actually surprised me: until this morning, I hadn't watered them once. Not once, all season. Their roots have gone deep and strong finding their own way, which is exactly what you want in a young vineyard. But with a week of 100°F heat rolling in, I decided this was the week to stop being stubborn about it and water proactively. They didn't really need it — but there's a difference between tough and being tested, and I'd rather not find out the hard way which one this heat wave is.

I'm also letting the vines grow out a bit more than I normally would right now, rather than pruning them back hard. If you cut them too aggressively in this heat, the vine panics and sends sap rushing to heal the wound — which wastes energy they should be spending on getting established. So for now, I'm letting them be a little unruly.

The real payoff is starting to show, though: the shoots I kept from the crowns I cut back last winter are turning into proper woody arms now. By next winter, once the leaves drop and I trim everything into shape, this is finally going to look like an actual alberello vineyard — not just a hopeful guy with 165 sticks in the ground.

The Honest Part

My cataract surgery got cancelled — because of my blood pressure, which, for the record, was in the normal range at my pre-op appointment six weeks ago.

Here's how the morning went.

I was herded into a room with a dozen other patients, and one by one we all had our blood pressure taken in front of each other, which is exactly the calming pre-surgery environment you'd want. When it was my turn, the nurse asked me in Italian if I was taking blood pressure medication, and I said "yes" — because I thought she meant "did you take the medication they prescribed you for the three days before surgery," which I had. When she responded, I couldn't follow, so her solution was to start shouting the question louder, as if volume was the problem. A woman I'd been chatting with for ten minutes before my turn finally spoke up and suggested, reasonably, that someone just ask me in English. The nurse's response: "No, he has to integrate."

What a Sweetie, huh? It's the very first time that has happened to me in nearly three years here.

So she took my pressure and as you might expect – high. I got sent to wait 30 minutes and try again — still a little high. An hour after that, I was finally cleared, prepped, and ready to go, only to have the last six of us in the queue — two of whom also had high readings — herded into the waiting room for one more check before surgery. Mine was slightly high again, and that was that: four hours in, fully prepped, and sent home.

Not my finest day. I followed up with my doctor and, because my blood pressure is a little edgy, I'm now on a low dose of medication. I'm also having bloodwork done tomorrow so I can go see a cardiologist just to make sure everything's actually fine. Then the whole process starts over in 30 days. What a treat. Said nobody. Ever.

It was a rough one, and I'm not exactly counting down the days to try again. But cataracts don't fix themselves and we'll get there.

Coming Up

The remodel news this month is... complicated. We met with the architect yesterday and hit a real snag: the city says the documents we got from the notary when we bought the house are missing a photo — proof that the outbuilding we want to connect to the main house actually existed prior to 1967. Without it, as far as the city's concerned (and despite the notary's assurance that the building was legally built), the magazzinno needs to be torn down. Our architect is digging to get to the bottom of it, but the whole project is on hold until that photo either turns up or officially doesn't.

If it doesn't turn up, we're back to the drawing board on our plans. Which, honestly, is very on-brand for Italian bureaucracy.

We'll keep you posted!

-Beth & Brian