Seggiano, Tuscany — August 13, 2024

August 13, 2024. Seggiano, in Tuscany. I find the festival under a white tent the size of a small barn, strung with bulbs that swing a little when the wind moves through. Benches packed shoulder to shoulder, plates passing hand to hand. The volunteers wear bright yellow shirts, the color of a field at noon, so you can find help from across the room. That is the one thing I keep noting tonight: a village dinner is a kind of mycelium. The yellow shirts are the fruiting bodies you see, but the real network is underneath — neighbors, cooks, uncles carrying water, a hundred quiet threads keeping the tent fed. Next time you sit at a long table, look for the yellow shirts, then look past them.