I never expected to be a gentleman farmer’s wife.
What I had imagined was someday vacationing at a Tuscan villa or a countryside cottage in Provence with working gardens and orchards, a la ">Under the Tuscan Sun or ">A Year in Provence style. Drinking co-oped wine, finding local meats and produce to play with, eating, walking the countryside and lolling in the sun. Now, that would be some treat.
My Sweet Baby
Once I recovered from the whiplash of aligning my paradigm with a new reality, I learned that to love well and be well loved was my truest, most sincere, deep down dream, far surpassing any lifestyle I could conjure. And while I wouldn’t say no to the possibility of visiting Tuscany and Provence, my dreams happen everyday, right here at home. Being surrounded by a working garden and orchard, preparing delicious meals-for-two (and having delicious meals prepared for me, as well,) having a cellar full of amazing wine, lolling in my own back yard, and walking gorgeous golden hills steps from the back door all come with the Love package.
I wear heels far less often, My Baby makes my morning coffee better than any cafe with beans purchased from a local roaster, and occasionally my lunch is a burger and beer from the tavern in town.
When I put on my "this could almost be Italy" glasses, it is food like this I imagine. Simple, pure Pizza Margherita. The freshest of tomatoes go into this sauce, as in 10 minutes from vine to oven, just like I picture it to be in Tuscany.