We've decided to go to Italy for a month...

... and it's too late to ask if it's a stupid idea

It felt like the middle of the night when Stuart woke me up this morning - darkness cloaked the sky and I could still hear the owls calling from the treetops as they do at night, their whistles like a lullaby from the treetops. I rolled over, rejecting the fact that it was time to begin the day. His hand found my lower back, rubbing it gently but with enough fervor to let me know that it was, in fact, time to start. He kissed my temple and sat up, lingering on the side of the bed for a moment before slipping into his house-shoes and heading upstairs to make espresso.

I rolled back over and fell partially back asleep, hazily running through the day and ticking through the pantry in my mind, making sure I had what I needed for breakfast at the ready. Drifting in and out, I prayed - giving thanks for breath in my lungs and the feel of clean sheets against my legs.

Stuart quietly came down the stairs leading to our daylight basement bedroom, cups of coffee balanced in hand.

I was glad to wake up to such a calm - last night, I went to bed dramatically second guessing my decision, wrestling with my own mind.

Have I just made a terrible decision?

Last week, I emptied our extra savings account in exchange for six plane tickets to Rome.

Like a squirrel with acorns, we’ve been stashing away a little here… a little here… a little here… for years… slowly building up this “bonus” account in hope of being able to trade it in one day for something that would really matter. Not so secretly, I always knew what that “something that would really matter” was. For better or worse, my lover has always been Italia.

So we’ve decided to take our entire family of six to Umbria, Italy for a month.

We have some work to do in the region: sourcing products for Limone, finalizing the details for our October 2025 Getaway, visiting friends in Tuscany, and a quick trip to Sicily to meet up with Bona Furtuna. But who am I kidding. This is pleasure.

It’s really too late to ask whether this is a stupid idea now. The tickets are booked, years of dreaming culminating into a single computer click. What takes years happens in a moment.

Italy, circa 2022

I take my first sips of morning coffee - it’s hot, really hot, and I welcome the cleansing taste on my palette - a simple pleasure that I never tire of. Stuart and I typically linger in bed for a small bit of time each morning, sipping at least halfway through our mugs and talking through the tasks on deck for the day. This morning we speak of our trip to Citta della Pieve and the madness, the risk, the excitement of such a long, far-away adventure.

We giggle with excitement and nervous energy while Bertie snuggles up on his pad by the fireplace.

For Stuart and I, we decided long ago that life must be lived passionately, creatively, beautifully. It’s simply how we breathe. It’s also why we’ve spend the last fifteen years building gardens, breeding animals, renovating our own farm house, and purifying and exploring our ingredients and pantry. Each meal and season, for us, is an opportunity for vibrancy.

For us, it’s never been either or. It’s both. Here and there, Malaga and Italy, home and away, deep roots and worn traveling boots. Can it be both?

Italy, circa 2018

We’re leaving the farm for one month in spring which means we’ll miss some late lambing and also important planting deadlines in the garden. We can’t have it all. We’re simply making an exchange that we have deemed to be worth it. The decision has been driven by many factors: limited time with our children, expanding work, practicing courage, listening to heart tugs, seeking beauty, learning culinary lessons, and breaking free from cultural bonds. I will share much more on each of these in the coming days.

Have you ever just wanted to do something wild? And JUST DO IT?

For now, I finish my now lukewarm coffee and head to the bathroom, splashing water on my face over the marble sink and smearing some moisturizer over my aging face. ‘It may as well be now. I’m not getting any younger.’ I chuckle to myself in the mirror, using my own laughter to soften the anxiety surrounding such a big and exciting event. Bertie is now curled up at my feet. I’m wishing secretly I could pack him in a suitcase and take him with us on our adventure.

I look forward to sharing our journey of a month in Umbria with you all - in case you also have two-parts to your soul and know the joy and gratitude in which we live here… and there.

Love,