While sorting through a box of old papers I came upon a familiar piece of scrap of paper that I had written well over a decade ago while on holiday with Mum in Tuscany. I had been living in England for years and had arranged to meet up with her there. We have always been close and it was an incredibly special and memorable mother daughter moment. One I’ll always cherish and never forget.
Love you mum. You are and always have been the most exceptional influence.
. . . . . . . .
With a renewed sense of calm and satisfaction I sit in the fruit garden overlooking Tuscany. Taking in every tranquil moment. Situated on the mount of San Gimignano my eyes have the freedom to view an enormity of space. From the little cream stoned villa down in the valley to the lines of olive trees that fringe the horizon. Sweeping birds break up the sky, gracefully dancing, enjoying the undulating landscape from above.
Slow moving clouds cast dappled shadows over the hills and slopes allowing the sun to highlight a patchwork of vineyards. Ancient vines, their produce I will drink with pleasure tonight.
The afternoon sun warms my face and makes the ripe pears on the tree behind me glow a succulent golden yellow. One more day and I’ll pick two to share with mum.
I have cooked pasta for her with fresh local produce I sourced in the streets earlier today. Pesto, ripe cherry tomatoes, garlic and olive oil. We’ll sit tonight and dine out here in the garden. With the evening so warm and the mood nostalgic we’ll greedily absorb each other’s company, filling each other in on the gossip and tales from both sides of the world. There is always so much to say. I haven’t seen her in so long.