hsil mary mother of god lady in blue i love you

“Look lava!” We can just make out the red lines flowing down the mountain in the distance. We look out from our hotel window each night. This is the first trip my daughter and I have taken together-just the two of us. You are here with me on this mountain-clean, dark, fertile. La Montagna, the Mother Mountain, a black lava Mother, a Black Madonna. I am surprised it leaves no sooty residue on my palm.

I pick up a small chunk of rock and crumble it in my hand. The melting snow leaves no muddy path-there is no soil, only volcanic grit. She sends a steady plume of steam high up into a cloudless December sky.Įtna’s porous rock crunches underfoot. We are fortunate to be here during her little eruptions. Listen, you can hear her.” Soft boom-booms echo from the craters on the other side. “But you know sometimes a mother gets angry and explodes. Her black volcanic ash provides this fertile ground.” He chuckles. “It is the feminine form of the word for mountain. “The mountain is called La Montagna,” the volcanologist, Danilo, tells us.

Is it indeed You and who rendered this painted image? How do you Google a painting, I wonder? As I wander the tourist shops, I see that same image of You in pop art and on a wine bottle display but the shop does not carry the wine. But I’m sure it would be impossible to get You home in my suitcase undamaged. Ah, this portrait of You should grace my altar. Something has drawn Your eyes from the pages You are reading. You are gazing out, one hand reaching forward, the other grasping the folds of Your veil. An image of You I have not seen before, but the deep blue veil makes me believe it is You.

Hsil mary mother of god lady in blue i love you