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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Ah, Spring! It’s that magical season that reminds us that what was closed and silent begins to open, open, open.

Immediately in front of us is the most incredible display of hope and faith in each new day. The Tuscan spring of this year arrives in all its splendor. Millions. No, billions of tiny tentative forms peek from beneath hardened bark, choosing to go one more round, to continue Life’s cycle, to shake off the blanket of winter. Shades of gray transform into delicate green, pink and yellow buds, right before our eyes. Blossoms. Flowers. And we anticipate the unfurling of leaves for shade in the months to come.

We are moved by the intensity of nature’s confident and bold statement. Choose life! Choose growth! Choose transformation! (more…)

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Our friend Sergio has a dream tucked beneath layers of rust in a salvage yard.

Whenever we need an old unique piece made of iron, we go to see Sergio. He’s been tirelessly collecting everything iron for decades now, and his collection is indeed impressive. He has meticulously gathered everything from enormous iron gates from the largest villas in Tuscany, to the miscellaneous small parts to make them work. He has old statues, machines, beds and swords. You name it. He has it. (more…)

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“St. Anthony, St. Anthony, please come down
Something is lost and can’t be found”

We have a great friend, Zia. We’ve worked with her for years on various projects, and whenever we needed something that seemed to be lost, she recited this little prayer to Saint Anthony. Miraculously, it always seemed to work. Once, in fact, she located something missing in our own home because Saint Anthony told her it was on a specific shelf in the dining room cabinet. I thought it was an unlikely place, but Em encourage me to immediately go home to check it out anyway—and there it was, just like Zia said. Or just like Saint Anthony said. That experience made us believers, even though we’ve rarely used the prayer since . . . except for one particular day in France! (more…)

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Why would anyone voluntarily leave Italy? Good question. But, that’s another story for another time. So . . . given that we wanted to “get out of Dodge,” we asked ourselves one simple question, “How can we most quickly and easily leave, yet still enjoy rolling hillsides of enchantment and inspiration, all the while, eating incomparable pastries, local cuisine and of course, a refreshing gelato now and again?”  The answer was obvious: Corsica. (more…)

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A brainstorm rewarded us with a great new idea for the garden: a “perch,” built into the slope behind the house, overlooking the grape arbor, the studio, and of course the valley. Besides many heavy stones, we needed some gravel. So, we went to one of our favorite ferramente, hardware stores, Guidotti in Pontassieve. Since we hadn’t been there for a while, we were glad to see our old friends Roberto and Francesco, who had been so helpful in the past with a number of knotty problems. They informed us that the gravel yard had closed promptly at noon, so we’d have to return at 13:30. In the meantime, they suggested a rosticceria, a roasting restaurant in Sieci, where we could eat. Nice idea! (more…)

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Through the olive groves, vineyards and cypress trees, there is a trail in the northern hills of Florence that leads from the Cave, old stone quarries of Maiano, to the ancient borgo, town of Settignano. On this very trail, young Michelangelo walked from his hometown to his beloved quarries to select stone for his sculptures. With every footstep the history of the world was changed, during those enchanted days of the Italian Rinascimento, Renaissance. (more…)

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We sat down on the perfectly placed stone bench to enjoy a quiet moment with nature. A rustling sound began somewhere nearby: perhaps two lizards playing, a harmless garden snake, or just leaves blowing in the evening breeze. However, the strange sound intensified and before we knew it, we were sitting amid rubble. Our sacred stone perch overlooking the valley had literally disintegrated beneath us. No one was even slightly injured, but our quiet meditation had been bruised rather badly. (more…)

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A mad dash between trains: the one from Lure, France arrived 30 minutes late. 5:45 pm, and the one to Vernon was scheduled to depart in 7 minutes.

We raced to the ticket machine. It was less than agreeable. In fact, it refused to issue the tickets that we’d selected. So we just ran for the train. We’d buy tickets on board, paying a premium for the privilege, no doubt. (more…)

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California has a reputation. It’s laid back, casual. Beachy. Of course, those of us in northern CA are not beachy, but tell someone that you’re from CA and immediately they say, “Oh, perpetual summer. Beaches. Bay Watch.” In fact, California’s reputation can lead some to think that whatever happens in CA is “lite.”  But we can be a pretty serious lot. Take our holiday decorations, for example. No one in their right mind would want to miss the 1.5 mile winding drive through the Vasona Lake Park. Why? To totally immerse themselves in the very serious lights display. (more…)

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According to the classic story of the Velveteen Rabbit, becoming REAL is everything in life. And if that story has a thread of truth in it, then Brandi Carlile is well on her way. At 30-something she has talent and insight beyond her years, as anyone who listens to her storytelling can attest. We enjoy her music and have been trying to catch one of her concerts for years, but we were never in the same place at the same time—that is, until last Tuesday. (more…)