These are stories that generally involve only Cheryl and/or Emerson and are most likely about day-to-day activities. They can be engaging the two of them in a whirlwind tour somewhere, or simply about conversation around the fire. Usually, they will have a more reflective side to them, or a particular lesson learned.

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My body felt like lead. “Who are you? What do you want.”

Somewhere in the stillness of the night, I became aware that I was dreaming. Or was I?

Okay. I’ll admit it. I had a really tough day! A good night’s rest is often the best remedy when the “toughness” sets in, so we hit the hay before the clock even turned to double digits—which is really early for us. We usually see every double digit, and witness single digits again before calling it a day.

I was sure that sleep would offer me an escape from the day’s stresses—at least I hoped so. Usually deep and satisfying sleep is often a refuge. This night began with promise, but shifted abruptly shortly after drifting off. I steadied my breathing and remember the sensation of falling asleep and releasing the day’s worries. I was right on track in the beginning. I shifted my weight to the far side of the bed to give Cheryl and our little doxy Sara more space. I was hovering in twilight sleep.Then suddenly I wasn’t!  

Fast asleep

My nightmare began. I dreamed I was asleep in a long narrow room totally unfamiliar to me. All alone on a skinny single bed, I was peacefully slumbering, laying close to the far corner of the room opposite the door. Suddenly, the door opened and someone or something entered. In the darkness with dim shadows I saw it silently moving toward me. It was a pale creature, formless, yet weighty. Startled, I had the urge to wake myself from this terrifying encounter. I tried to sit up, but couldn’t move either my legs or arms. They felt like lead. Still groggy, I called out, “Who is it and what do you want?” But my voice was as frozen as my arms and legs. From my lips I heard a low guttural, creepy sound something like: “Bhough eez zhit ehhhh bwaht zhou whwanndt?” Needless to say, there was no response from the silent intruder. I struggled again to get up and confront whatever it was, but it just kept floating/sweeping toward me as if sadistically enjoying my night-time terror.

The “Entity”

The “Entity” swooped low at the foot of the bed, then circled around me moving ever-faster. Then it approached the corner of the bed close to my head. I could feel an icy cold air following its movement. I tried again and again to simply turn my neck to see it more closely, but all efforts were in vain. I absolutely could not. It sensed my growing fear and somehow hovered both behind and beneath me. Dimensions and depth blurred. In a fit of desperation, I mustered every ounce of strength, flailing in the air with my hands over my head trying to disrupt its sinister plan. In my last best hope, I took one great vanquishing swipe into the darkness.

I was jarred into semi-consciousness with the sound of a heavy steel lamp crashing onto the wood floor. I bolted upright, disoriented. At that point, the bright ceiling light came on, blinding me. Suddenly Iris was up and on high alert. She was awakened by the crash, but of course, the “Entity,” was nowhere to be found. The only source for the sound clearly fell to me. Boy, did I ever feel ridiculous!

At breakfast we gathered around the table to review the night’s events. I told Cheryl the sordid details of the intruder’s attack. Always objective and curious about dream symbolism, she matter-of-factly said that the “Something-Entity” may have represented my “Shadow” coming to challenge me. Would I control it or would it control me? My response was the same as always, to fight back. That is my fatal mistake, it seems. To disown the shadow sets up battle lines, as a war ensues that can never be won—by anyone. And, once again, I sadly end up attacking and destroying my own “LIGHT.”

Integration

Perhaps this little night-time vignette has finally made it clear. The only way for the LIGHT to prevail, is to INTEGRATE with the shadow. The power of the shadow is in its ability to provoke. If I’m not provoked, perhaps it will settle down. “Wholeness” is the only viable strategy. I finally got it! Then, I walked into town to the hardware store to get the necessary supplies to fix the broken table lamp.

Moral of the story: Rest assured, the LIGHT always wins in the end—eventually! Why not just let it happen sooner, rather than later?

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Welcome to an amazing episode in the continuing story of Sara, the Wonder Dachshund. Cheryl: I will tell this story as best I can from the details Em recounted as he lay on the sofa recovering from his “urgent adventure” with Sara.

Secret weapons – nose and empathetic eyes

Dogs are incredible creatures. Did you know they have about 300 million smell sensors in their noses—about 50 times more than we do, mere humans? On top of that, their brains are 40 times more capable of analyzing those smells than the big person next to them. As if that isn’t enough proof, they can also sense pain/distress and will come to your rescue, trying all their wiggly, licky tricks to comfort and console, or even just lay on you. Anything to heal and make things better. We call it fur-therapy. Now, that’s a “best friend!”

Shivering Sara

The other day, Em was experiencing his share of stress around long-overdue feedback on things like relationships, communication, negative behavior, leadership style etc.—you know, ordinary things like that. He was working at the computer when our little longhaired dachshund Sara came to his side and wanted something. He picked her up to find she was shaking uncontrollably, which was really unusual. Thinking she might desperately need to go out, he leashed her up and hurried out into the grass. She did a token tinkle, but immediately started heading east across the lawn, pulling hard like there was something urgent that needed her attention (also not like her).

Trolly and train crossing

The leash was taut with Em in tow. Laser-focused, she jumped the curb and jaywalked them across Union Street. She stopped, momentarily sniffing and inquisitively looking up at a man on a platform 15 feet away—but no, he was not involved in this chase. Lurching left, she ran through a parking lot where she had never been before. Leaving the lot, she sniffed out a signal and immediately took a right turn, south down the sidewalk toward the trolley tracks. Then they bolted across the tracks where Em had to literally hold her at bay while traffic cleared on Harbor Drive. When the light changed, they were off again on a tear across six traffic lanes and a median of palm trees.

Marriott entrance

Without hesitation, she jumped the curb on the other side and launched up the ramped-drive toward the Marriott entrance. Sniffing as she ran, they circled around past the entrance (thankfully they didn’t need to go inside), taking a hard right toward the loading dock. Holy Moly! Em yelled to the guard as they darted by, asking if it was okay if they passed through to the other side. He said “the guard at the end will definitely open the gate since he’s afraid of dogs,” as he laughed out loud. Em shouted-out a quick “thanks” as his hair wafted in the breeze of the loading dock wind-tunnel.

The wind tunnel

Like clockwork, the guard opened the gate as they fast approached—a perfectly orchestrated team event and they were off and running toward the promenade along the marina. Those little dachshund legs were a blur as Sara scurried and sniffed her way to some unknown destination. Em mused that this time, the leash was pulled tight enough to pluck a low Bb, like on a stand-up bass.

They then crossed the promenade where she did the most remarkable thing: she literally jumped up on the bayside retaining wall (never before had she done such an exuberant thing in her entire life), and stood there like a statue looking out over the water. Evidently, the mysterious fugitive had made a cool get-away—apparently confounding his scent amid the boats gently rocking in the bay. After a moment of determined gazing, she jumped back down onto the promenade and then retraced their exact route back home—still sniffing and pulling Em along behind her like a man obediently following his fearless leader.

Ready to sleep

Arriving at home, they went inside as if nothing unusual had just happened. Sara immediately fell asleep. Em and I puzzled over her urgent adventure, wondering what in the world it was all about. Since she can’t talk and has no opposable thumbs to write her story, it remains a mystery. Then, a possible explanation dawned on us: What if she had sensed Em’s stress about insensitivity and over-assertiveness—his “leadership crisis”? She knew he needed help. We imagined her concocting a little adventure, combining her expert sense of smell with her innate human sensitivity to teach that “old dog” a new trick?

She decided to give him a first-hand experience that he would hopefully NEVER forget: the importance of learning how to FOLLOW.

Shivering Sara needed a warm hat!

 

 

 

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2020

What did you do over the Pandemic Sequester?

As for us, we basically laid low, hunkered down, worried about all the wonderful people working the front lines in the battle to heal. We cheered and clattered with wooden spoons on pans at 8:00 pm, as everyone in our neighborhood poured out onto their porches and balconies. We video-chatted with our loved ones, read everything we could find, watched some great movies, shows and documentaries, focused on self-help, exercised, did lots of remote therapy work and on and on and on—much like so many of our fellow Americans. 

But there was one other thing we did that perhaps helped us keep our sanity while processing everything that was swirling around us in the news each day—we wrote music and stories together, a privilege that we’ve enjoyed for the past 20 years. We were “working from home” before it became a necessity. 

Following are the stories and music that showed-up for us during the turbulent and often disturbing year, 2020. We decided to collect them all together for our continuing reflection and conversations, asking ourselves and each other, “What just happened?”  It certainly wasn’t all bad. Overall, our assessment is that it was extremely sad and devastating, but also an interesting and transformative time that we shall never forget. This post includes a quick synopsis and links to each separate story that will serve as our way of documenting what 2020 inspired, as experienced by two 70 year old Patriots from inside their apartment looking out—for 10 months, and counting!

Music and Stories 

Lightning Rod

January 1, 2020

Lightning rod sculpture

Not knowing about the pandemic that was stealthily making its way to the US, we started the year with hopeful introspection, working in therapy on ourselves and our relationship, anticipating an even better year than 2019 had been. Fortunately, it was the therapy that prepared us for all that was to come—global turmoil, chaos and unbelievable sadness. The world was suffering in ways too many to count.

Playing with Echo

May 17, 2020
Then came the beautiful springtime and the May birthday of our dear Rosie June. Even a pandemic can’t dampen the contagious youthful energy of a birthday celebration. We were captivated by the creative mind of our 3 year-old granddaughter. As she arrived at her newly remodeled home, she discovered an unexpected playmate for the first time ever—ECHO. They were suddenly best friends!

No Better

June 1, 2020
Summer arrived and we found ourselves returning to a more reflective mood as the harsh realities of the global catastrophe became clearer and closer to home. The new fears and concerns were layered on top of what was already overwhelming heartache for many people—regular life. Divorce left a friend lonely and all alone—not quite what he imagined. We could see firsthand, how the accumulating psychological weight was dangerous for all of us. You might think we would all KNOW BETTER!

Lucky Day 

July 1, 2020

We were missing family due to the isolation of lockdowns and stay-at-home orders—becoming quite sentimental. Simply being together with loved ones suddenly seemed like an incredible luxury that we used to take for granted. Em’s brother sent an old audio recording of a song that Em had sung for his Mom and Dad for their 50th anniversary. We decided to seize the opportunity to recreate the gift of the original music, bringing it into today’s world as a way of commemorating that special time of family gatherings and freedom—the ability to hug, laugh and celebrate without masks or fear of risking harm to those we love. 

Quiet Comes Along 

July 13, 2020
The heat of summer matched the heat of battle required to fight the relentless virus. For us, and perhaps even for others, we felt a need to create an adult “lullaby” for the times. We know that soothing songs are  important for children, so we pondered that they could be equally meaningful to calm grownups. We acknowledge those responsible for the safety and healing of others. With that in mind, we decided to write a quiet, relaxing and hopeful song that would lull us into much needed rest, peace and compassion.

The Pusher

September 8, 2020
By the fall, our spirits were tattered and worn with all of the death, destruction and division. It seemed that our president wouldn’t  or couldn’t stop the chaos, and intentionally added incendiary rhetoric to it every day. We felt like the dynamics of conflict and negativity were determined to push and push and push us to the brink—of what we didn’t quite know. Life felt, we imagine, like a powerful drug overdose—we were given far more bad news than we could tolerate, and the situation went from dangerous to dire.

Follow the Leader

November 23, 2020
Late fall brought us to a fever pitch with the upcoming presidential election on top of the pandemic. We thought things couldn’t get worse, but they definitely did. We were struck by the awesome power of a charismatic leader. As if in a trance, people seemed to follow their hero no matter where he decided to lead them. Hearts and minds had already been captured and there was really nothing left to think about—just FOLLOW! The danger to our democracy was palpable! 

Feathers and String

December 31, 2020
Exhausted yet hopeful, we closed out the year by returning to the way we started—reflection. This musical story is about a deep meditation on love, joy and compassion in the midst of the horrific, ongoing winter wave of the pandemic. We found ourselves relying on meditations to keep us centered and resilient—musing about the mystery and magic that abides in every day, no matter what life tosses our way. We pondered the power of a smile, even though masked. We decided to trust the awesome logic of the universe. We know that healing is in the future. 

 

 

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The last line of the message was left unfinished.

Our therapist said that WE would need to complete the sentence later. That evening, after re-reading the notes from the day’s session, we both paused at the unfinished line as if slowly, cautiously walking up to the edge of a cliff. We each knew the answer. Then together, we spoke the missing words like the powerful ending of a sacred song—we whispered. “Her Destiny.” Silence followed as we pondered the significance of what we had just spoken. Hmm. Something shifted.

That moment was actually foretold 17 years prior as we put the final touches on three important musical stories: “Out Of the Block,” “Swinging Statues” and “Letting Go.” Looking back, we hear the words of those songs describing in great detail what was happening within us then. And now, they speak about what is happening once again, but in an even more powerful way.

It was 2004 when those songs first appeared. Little did we know that just over a decade later, on the 17th of May, in 2017, our sweet little granddaughter would arrive in this world—a force to be reckoned with. And now, four years later, we’re faced with the awareness that in this our 70th year, we must prepare for our own “Transformation.” We ready ourselves to pass on that which was promised.

Our promise is our Destiny writ large—a message magically scrawled among the stars. The time to deliver is upon us and we are prepared to do our part. Like in a relay race, the crucial handoff that only we can make is fast approaching. And, our granddaughter is undoubtedly determined to carry it forward in her words, deeds and the precious DNA. The lineage shall continue unabated and unaltered, on into the distant future—forever and a day! Destiny.

Music and Story

Out of the Block

In 1999, we found ourselves on a partnered journey of discovery in Florence Italy where we fell in love with the city, the people and the glorious history of the Enlightenment. There, we were moved by images of Michelangelo in his studio workshop, carving the stone to release the form hidden within. That was a major turning point as we felt the same urgent chisel, chipping away at us. We were beginning our own personal works of art—our destiny, waiting to be revealed! But it’s more than that. We now see that “lineage” links multiple destinies together. Like a relay race, each relies on those who come before!

Out Of the Block

Swinging Statues

We opened ourselves to change, not knowing exactly what that would look like. It reminded us of the childhood game of Swinging Statues. Regaining our balance after a few extreme spins was always exciting: What would we look like? Who would we be? That simple game set us in motion, twirling and tumbling in surprising ways. Invigorated, yet quite unaware, we were preparing ourselves for something grand that would happen. Well, later has finally arrived. Twenty years have landed us in a form never quite imagined. We scramble back into position, take another deep breath and extend our arms again—ready for one more spin. This is our destiny—directly tied to the destiny of our precious little granddaughter.

Swinging Statues

Letting Go

Beginnings and Endings have a lot in common. They both challenge us to reach deep inside, trust completely and let go! Any step we take toward our destiny requires that we begin something new and end something familiar—trade what we know and love for the unknown. That’s just the way it’s been for us. Without the ability to let go, we would be stuck in the past. Destiny requires us to listen closely to intuition and heed the call. The discomfort of not knowing has been our only path forward. Surrender. Release. Then soar! We are ready, once again.

Letting Go

 

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The misconception is that those who birth us are our parents
They are not
They are escorts through life
They cannot know what you need
They are caretakers, awkwardly fumbling as best they can

Parent yourself

Release them from your preconceived notions
They were parenting themselves, which you could not know

Parent yourself

This is not ego, which is demanding, and ultimately judgmental
This is true self-care
If someone else suffers or is inconvenienced, that is ego
Self-care is kind and generous
It is quiet, stealthy

It’s a secret mission

This poem was written exactly as Cheryl received it late in the evening on January 16, 2021
It arrived without fanfare, much like many other messages over the past 20 years. You can also visit another related story that includes music from 2004 called “Silent Messages“.

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“Is there a more isolated house?” 

Climb aboard!

It seemed a simple question to pose to two Italian realtors. Without hesitation, we soon had our answer. Almost immediately, the more practical of the pair, feisty Inga, was at the wheel, maneuvering the old Jeep up the steep terrain. Her associate, Patrizia, stunning in her white knit pants, fitted shirt and lavender scarf tied stylishly around her neck, occupied the passenger seat. As Inga revved the engine, Patrizia turned and smiled to reassure us that everything was okay. Just after we turned off of the main road, Inga immediately threw her weight into the steering wheel for a hard left and we continued a steep climb. At one point, all we could see from the back seat was the dashboard because the road was completely obscured from view, due to the car’s jolting angle. Surely, this must be the top, we thought, as the grade leveled out a bit and we found ourselves passing between enormous old vacant barns and rusted grain silos. Inga paused only momentarily, grimacing as she engaged a stubborn gear, and then yanked the steering wheel hard to the right and away we went into the woods. 

Arriving at the top of the mountain

Surprised, we continued to climb up the rugged hillside, while brush and bushes slapped both sides of the Jeep. Rocks rolled down the hill while others crunched beneath the spinning tires as we bounced and jostled our way along. We felt a sudden lurch as Inga course-corrected after unintentionally dropping a tire into a huge pothole. Patrizia turned once again to offer another cautious, silent smile of reassurance. A few hundred feet further, Inga nearly stood on the brake pedal, bringing the Jeep to an abrupt halt. She then shifted into neutral, cut the engine and with a sharp tug, engaged the parking brake. Just for good measure, she kicked a large stone under the back tire. Then, as if nothing unusual had just happened, Patrizia smoothed her hair, adjusted her scarf and said with a gracious smile, “Andiamo, let’s go!” We emerged from the back seat to see—ruins. Not just something in need of minor repairs—serious ruins.

Barn In Ruins

There before us, was a small, dilapidated stucco, terra cotta and stone barn with a 3-inch wide diagonal crack running from its fallen roof all the way down past its dirt floor. Near the barn stood the delicately balanced pile of stones that once was a large house, as evidenced by a remaining 10-foot high stone corner. One wall jutted up far enough to hold the crumbling remnants of an old stone window opening. The adjacent partial wall was completely overgrown with vines that had surely gone unchecked for at least—umm, maybe 100 years?

Overtaken by nature

We couldn’t get too close to either the barn or the house, since brambles and weeds obstructed our way, completely covering the lower levels. We heard wild pheasants warbling in the nearby meadow. With nimble fingers, we lifted thorny branches and edged cautiously closer, remembering that in the undisturbed, abandoned parts of Tuscany there were undoubtedly many resident snakes—vipers among them—watching our every move.

The peaceful valley

We stood, staring from the ruins into the magnificent valley below. From that perch at the top of the hill we saw multiple layers of blue and gray mountains receding into the distance. Directly below us was an intimate valley in various shades of lush green vegetation. The landscape was broken with the occasional yellow stucco farmhouse, a castle tower and a couple of grand old villas. Silvery grey olive groves dotted the hillsides. Vineyards followed the contours, rolling like gentle green waves. On our far left, nestled within a distant pine grove stood a centuries-old monastery, Madonna del Sasso, with its own commanding view of the amazing valley. We were mesmerized, taking it all in, gazing into the distant past, smitten by the current breath-taking view—lovestruck.

Patrizia casually mentioned that Dante Alighieri, had a country home just down the hill in the late 1200s. She went on to say that he even penned his famous Divine Comedy while staying there. We were lost in thought. Then, after several minutes of silence, she said, “Allora, che pensate, so, what do you think?” 

Her question snapped us back to reality. With a quick glance and subtle nod to each other, we answered, curiously at the same time, “Perfetto, perfect!” Inga and Patrizia locked eyes and slightly raised their eyebrows. We’re sure we heard one of them utter to the other, “Pazzi Americani, crazy Americans!” Yet, we knew better. These RUINS would be the source of our inspiration. To rebuild the fallen stone walls was the perfect metaphor we needed to begin building our own dreams.

This story is a true “Italian Moment” that took place in the spring of 2000. 

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Decaton. Squeaker. Q-T Cat, Inspector General—the list of characters goes on.

Just A Few Of The Star Robots

Meet your new best friends and a few worst enemies inside this rollicking ROBOTS! card game brought to you by “Border Games.” If you like cards, robots, laughter, strategy, fun and a good mental challenge, you might just give it a whirl. For about $20, you too could get a few kicks from the Robots! Factory.

The idea for Robots! was born one summer afternoon when our son, Aaron, stopped by for a visit. We reminisced about how much we’ve always enjoyed playing Rummy, but lamented that winning is so dependent on the luck of the draw, rather than strategy. We imagined how much more fun it would be if you could change the outcome with a few new tactical maneuvers. Within days, our inventor-son started sending updates on the development of an advanced form of Rummy called “Robots!”

A Game To Test Your “Metal”

When the kids were younger, our family often played a variety of card games, ranging from Euchre, to multiple player Solitaire, to Kings in the Corner, to Uno, but mostly we played Rummy. Aaron was also fascinated with metal monsters and he loved the mechanical aspect of transformers. So, we imagine that his love for all the variations that card games offer, combined with his keen interest in building and dismantling mechanical things, would somehow blend. It was only a matter of time before we were hit with a creative card game tsunami.

We volunteered to be test subjects, as Aaron wrote and rewrote the rules of the game. He fine-tuned the graphics and learned the intricate art of marketing his new game. As of today, the final version of “Robots!” has been completely designed, produced and delivered. What began as a successful Kickstarter campaign has transformed into a presence on Amazon. Now, we look forward to our evening round of friendly combat on the field of Robots! rivalries. The rest of this story will be found in the future book called “Great Games of the World!”

Introduction To Robots!

How To Play The Game

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What has a specific beginning and end, but no origin?

The labyrinth.

Rappite Labyrinth, New Harmony Indiana

Labyrinths have been discovered throughout the world for at least 4,000 years. But that doesn’t mean we know who invented the first one, or where. Was he/she as old as dirt? Who really knows? However, something timeless and mysterious seems to tie them all together as if by a grand plan, yet no obvious big plan exists. Each labyrinth is more like a symbolic representation of some primordial pattern. And, that idea seems to have been hardwired into every brain in every culture. The labyrinth represents a common shared experience of living, making a journey, meditating on the meaning of life, achieving a goal or simply following your personal path—one step at a time. It is a metaphor for life itself. Even if we don’t know the exact origin of the labyrinth, we can all agree that it’s a powerful idea that remains meaningful and fully embraced to this day.

Kitchen Jar Opener—A Necessity

Nobody thinks much about a labyrinth until you’re presented a mysterious and urgent need for one. They’re like that special jar-opening tool in the kitchen that you need RIGHT NOW! There must be one around here somewhere, but where is it? (freeing the stubborn lid from a jar is reminiscent of a labyrinth’s ability to ease the cross-threaded barriers to living our best life). Well, we found ourselves in need of a labyrinth one day. One of us had a vague recollection of something like that just down the street from our place. You know the feeling? You’ve seen it out of the corner of your eye, but didn’t really pay that much attention. There was something that looked more like a garden sculpture in the center of some hedges. But wait. Upon closer inspection, a bold discovery was revealed—a fantastic contemporary labyrinth “right there in our own backyard.”

“Eureka!” We found it!

Labyrinth Tower—San Diego California

Twenty-five years ago, three artists were commissioned to create a piece of sculpture to commemorate the beginning of the “Martin Luther King Jr. Promenade” in downtown San Diego. Their idea was to create a labyrinth with messages set into concrete bordering a stone path. The series of phrases prompts the meditative walker to consider the ways we can grow by “shedding” that which is limiting and/or no longer useful. When we shed negative attributes, we create space to “don” positive qualities. The short walk culminates at an incredible bronze tower, apparently built from transformed scraps of metal, which may symbolize that “shedding/donning” process—soaring upward into the beautiful blue Southern California sky. The sculpture is impressive yet unfinished—much like our own life’s work. True transformation seems to require examining the negative to glean the positive. Which is the dismantling and which is the building? Hmm. Perhaps they’re one and the same.

In either case, there’s definitely important solitary work to be done . . . one step at a time!

Labyrinth Messages

Stepping into the labyrinth, there’s a concrete border on each side of the gravel path. Alternating from one side to the other as you walk are messages engraved in the borders—with “shedding” on one side and “Donning” on the other, as follows:

Shedding the cloak of Oppression”—”Donning the cloak of Reconciliation”
Shedding the cloak of Fear—Donning the cloak of Trust
Shedding the cloak of Prejudice—Donning the cloak of Respect
Shedding the cloak of Malice—Donning the cloak of Compassion
Shedding the cloak of Bitterness—Donning the cloak of Forgiveness
Shedding the cloak of Despair—Donning the cloak of Hope
Shedding the cloak of Weariness—Donning the cloak of Courage
Shedding the cloak of Ignorance—Donning the cloak of Wisdom
Shedding the cloak of Darkness—Donning the cloak of Light

Gallery

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Etruscan Wall – Fiesole

The farmers of Tuscany have faithfully tended this rocky Italian soil for many hundreds of years—even millennia. Perhaps that seems like an over-statement, but it’s true. The name Tuscany actually derives from the earliest settlers of the region in pre-Roman times, namely the Etruscans. They developed an advanced culture and were known for their peaceful nature. They created transportation systems, mining, art, and of course agriculture. Masters at working the land, their adept hands were the first to fell the trees and pull countless stones from the terra firma. That was 900 BC, which makes for nearly 3000 years of commitment to the land, as of this writing.

Tuscan Farmhouse

When we first came to Tuscany in the year 2000, we were captivated by the natural beauty. But, even more, we were mesmerized by the impeccable instinct to “design with nature.” Especially in the countryside, the villas, landscaping, colors, materials, the reflection of the sun, all worked together to create this seamless tapestry called Tuscany. We were fortunate enough to find our own piece of that landscape. From our simple hillside farmhouse, overlooking the valley, we’ve developed a deep appreciation as well as an obligation to maintain and preserve that which has come before us—for those who will come after.

Fiesole Today

The name of our farmhouse, which we share with two other Italian families, is Casale Pretena, which simply means, Pretena Farmhouse. But, there’s a twist. It turns out that the name isn’t exactly Italian, and that Pretena is most likely an Etruscan word that has been handed down through the generations. The local lore suggests that this land may very well have been part of an Etruscan settlement on the outskirts of the nearby famous Etruscan town of Fiesole, just three miles down the road. Many generations of farmers who tended this land over the centuries left their indelible mark and name. Just imagine: countless families were raised here; animals provided sustenance; healthy crops fed the young families and animals. Surely artists and artisans were among the early inhabitants, facing life’s many day-to-day challenges. Doubtless, tragedies occurred. but the hard-working people persevered. Because they did, we consider this a sacred site, where that collective soulful energy is still felt today.

Ancient Garden Spade

Indeed, this place has always been special to us, and we’re humbled by the opportunity to momentarily “tend the soil” in that long line of caretakers. We decided to use the beautiful garden as a canvas of sorts, to honor the memory of those families who came before. As a symbol of their labor, we have planted various ancient farming implements throughout the garden. These are tools that were essential to their lives—held in their hands. Each iron piece peeks out from the lush greenery to remind us that, ” This sacred place belongs to all of us. Take good care!”

Music

We wrote this song 20 years ago when we first found Pretena , conjuring the magic and mystery that surrounds this place. After all these years, this land continues to provide awe and inspiration for us! If you want to read the original story along with the lyrics, you can find them by clicking this link: “My Treasured Heart.”

Photos

Following is a photo gallery of the Pretena flower garden. We don’t tend crops and animals anymore like they did over the centuries, but we have done everything we can to create a special sense of the natural beauty of the place in honor of those who preceded us.

Etruscan Wall – Fiesole

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Tenuta Monteloro—Antinori Vineyards

We are surrounded by vineyards of Antinori. Fortunately, they are one of the oldest wine-making families in the world and have learned quite a few things over the past 600 years. As a result, everything they do is precise, immaculate and beautiful. Perfect neighbors.

The vineyards are irresistible. They change constantly with each season, daily and even hourly.  The meticulous rows mesmerize us, forming the perfect backdrop for far-off-gazing, solitary contemplation or soulful conversation. But, beyond distant admiration, it’s even better to traipse silently into them. Walking through their alluring geometry has become an important morning ritual—with dawn’s crisp air, the natural cadence of muffled footsteps, the sight of an occasional leaping deer, darting rabbits, and the sun peeking over the distant mountain ridge. Nature’s wholesome aroma gently fills my lungs to the brim. Day after day I honor the beauty of the vineyards.

Purple Wildflower

This morning was even more delightful than usual. In summer, the paths surrounding the vineyards are dotted with purple wild flowers. They are hearty varietals indeed, because when I bent down to pick one for Cheryl, it was difficult to break the stem. They grow in the toughest conditions, so durability is required for survival. With persistence, I freed the tiny flower and held it close. It was even more beautiful than I expected—strong yet delicate. I carried it home as a present for my true love, like a naive schoolboy with my first girlfriend (nearly 50 years after our first encounter).

Then came the surprise. My focus on the purple flowers caused me to look closer still toward the ground-covering wildflowers. First, I saw the most colorful ones. Then, I started to see other less obvious flowers nearby. There was an obscure yellow bloom, then I noticed an unlikely tiny white-lace canopy that I had previously seen as a weed. Each blossom was now more interesting than before. I found myself standing in an abundant garden of everyday, unassuming flowers. Upon closer inspection, even the brown-red spiky thistle I always avoided became one of the most unique of the bunch. I plucked it from the dry earth, adding to my collection.

Wildflowers for my Love

What a wonderful metaphor for life! Incredible beauty is literally everywhere. We wander obliviously through a veritable garden, side-stepping that which we haven’t yet learned to appreciate. Value appears only when we have a shift of perspective. Certainly, everything is inherently valuable. Then suddenly, we simply decide to see it.

The tiny vase of wild flowers took its rightful place at the center of our table and our lives where we could be reminded daily of simple overlooked joys—those that await an aware gaze. Our eyes open, and a tiny new panorama is freshly taken in. Exhilarating!