There’s a bar in Rome (bar in the Italian sense meaning that it primarily serves coffee) where they have taken the revolutionary step of forbidding talk about COVID by anyone who steps foot inside. It’s a refreshing idea, and at this stage in the pandemic calendar one that I don’t think many people will complain about.

While it’s hard to deny how pervasive COVID-19 has become, I find this new story to be immensely satisfying. I really do love it when someone (or some random bar) suddenly gives voice to a big yet unarticulated issue. And maybe it’s not even an issue per se– just a something that takes up a lot of room yet nobody has exactly named it. Much like politics, we’re all tired of talking about COVID: what it means and how it influences every single decision we make. And when we are not talking about it, we’re all still thinking about it. My internal chyron has had these same two topics looping around for the entire year and good God I am worn out.

So hats off to the bar that is finally telling us to change the channel– if only for the duration of a single Italian coffee. The bar went so far as to post up signs with potential discussion topics– everything from local history and culture to proposing that customers debate which of a glitzy ex-couple are more crazy. To me this is pure genius, all accomplished with only some construction paper, Scotch tape, and a marker.

I wasn’t completely aware of this universal stanchezza, but personally I had no desire to write anything because I felt as though nearly all topics of consequence only fell into two messy categories: the illness and the American political landscape. Call this a copout or sheer laziness (and perhaps both are also true) but I just felt no desire to write or post.

What I have enjoyed over the course of this month, is looking at the trees. Rome has got all of these iconic sights that get printed on tourist memorabilia, but nobody ever told me that autumn is a real scene-stealer. I shouldn’t be altogether surprised; as a New Englander I am predisposed to the fall’s hypnosis, and equally I experience a sympathetic sense of loss each time the leaves fall to the ground and leave landscape looking barren.

I’ve mainly kept the November days quiet. It has been easy to remain focused on completing each individual task within the span of each passing day. Maybe it’s because I am getting older and it feels as though more concentration is required in order to do just about anything at all. Not just the work stuff but also going through the mental calisthenics of preparing my purse for a full day out and about. Still, two days ago I opted to walk home from work. My hands were full of dry cleaning and I had a bag of heavy items because I opted to walk because I wanted to see the colors changing in Villa Borghese. They did not disappoint but by the end of my commute, I was tired and thought better of my plan. At about the time I was rolling up to my building, that’s when I realized that my house keys were sitting on my office desk. Facepalm if only I had a free hand with which to perform the gesture. So my concentration might not be perfect, but at least I get to enjoy the view as I trek around the city while carting around a bunch of crap.

There’s something else about the trees in Rome. I’ve mentioned them before, but to me the great stone pine trees are as towering and majestic as the mountain range I used to spy outside the living room window when I lived in Grenoble. The pine trees and the other evergreens, they play significant role in fingerprinting the identity of the cityscape. You don’t believe me, then I will tell you that in some parts of this region you need a permit just to cut one down.

This weekend I walked a street that was bisected by a medley of massive deciduous trees. They were in full mid-autumn transition and highlighted by that low-slanting winter sun that exists only to blaze right into your field of vision for most of the day. It was early enough in the afternoon, but the long shadows signaled that sooner rather than later we’d be out of daylight again. Bah. I walked up the street, allowing this soft battery of thoughts to move past. But then I looked beyond the yellowing trees to the ones stacked up behind it. The pines. The pointy cypresses. Each of them still standing by as they always do in their green vestments. It made me pause and smile.

It’s not too often that I think about renewal during the fall period. Usually I find myself preoccupied with how big of a jacket I’ll need to wear or (now) appreciate that at least a facemask keeps my nose warm. But even as the city the leaves are now falling faster than the city workers can sweep them up, this year I find added comfort in noticing the evergreens. As a visual aid they persist, letting us know that even when branches of other trees have gone completely bare, growth and endurance are still on full display– if only we remember to look for it.

Of course there is plenty more in this world to be talking about apart from politics and disease. But I imagine that if I went to that bar in Rome and said, “Hey, did you notice that the evergreens are still green?” then I would get some quizzical looks. It might be easier to talk about trashy gossip. But in this year with so much flux and transition, I really do find comfort in knowing that some things throughout the course of a year are completely dependable.

You want to debate this with me? I’ll offer you a coffee at the bar.