The Window to Tuscany

Ciao!

The first time I looked through that Window to Tuscany, I could almost taste the fresh Tuscan air—crisp (still spring), earthy (grapes growing), and full of promise and excitement. Little did I know that view would become a symbol of our unforgettable journey to a much-loved place on Earth. This Tuscany story may be one of my last tales from our sensational trip to Italy in 2025 (but I’m not ruling it out entirely because while writing this one, Hubby Bill mentioned a few more!). I’m still on a high two months later, after taking a bucket trip I promised myself to do 30 years ago: renting a villa in Tuscany.

Not only that, I had my husband, two adult children (one of whom is married), my first grandchild, my daughter’s mother-in-law, my husband’s identical twin and his wife, and two dear friends, one with her husband and one of their daughters. If you counted up to a baker’s dozen in the number of people sharing this unforgettable experience, you are correct!

It was, for all practical purposes, one magnificent trip of a lifetime. But this trip wasn’t just mine; it was a shared experience with my favorite baker's dozen of people. We had stellar weather, easy transportation, and so many relaxing moments despite the usual hustle and bustle of touring the Eternal City, Florence, Siena, San Gimignano, Poggibonsi, and beyond. The only hiccup came in Rome, where the Conclave prevented our group from entering the Sistine Chapel—but I suppose that only makes the experience even more unforgettable, or as we like to say, we were there with "history in the making."

Our villa, named Villa Vada, was built over a hundred years ago, possibly around 150 years ago. Of course, the owners had updated the place over the years with modern conveniences like window screens, updated electrical, and other necessary touches for the rustic vintage villa. Thank goodness all the beds were super comfy, including the pillows and all linens.

But it was those glass-weathered windows that caught my attention; glazed, some with visible imperfections, such as waves, bubbles, and slight distortions. I love that about a century-old home. There’s something comforting about it, isn’t there? Maybe because it felt more grounded, more real, as if it has hundreds of stories to tell.

One window in the dining area off the kitchen intrigued all of us. After we consolidated our photos into one huge Google photo album, we realized that we all sat near, looked out, and took pictures of the same window for the entire two weeks. Breathing in the fresh Tuscan air, looking out over the countryside, and watching the day unfold from sunrise to sunset was one of the most phenomenal pleasures— and we knew how special it was, taking it all in, one person at a time.

As the two weeks passed by as fast as Mario Andretti driving a Ferrari on a race track, that one unassuming window became more than just a frame; it became our shared view of Tuscany, our window into a world that seemed both timeless and fleeting. We couldn’t quite explain it, but each time we gazed through it, we felt a deeper connection to the land, to the family, and to the fleeting nature of the moments we were sharing—either alone or with someone else.

What struck me most was how this window, in its imperfect layers of paint and aged way, reflected so much of our trip. Like the villa itself, it wasn’t flawless, but it was perfect in its own right. Every ripple in the glass and open window told a story, and every glimpse of the rolling hills, vineyards, and distant cypress trees felt like a little piece of magic. I can still see those tall, dark green cypress trees standing like stoic wooden soldiers lining the horizon, perhaps standing guard and protecting those typical Tuscany hills scattered throughout this lovely region.

You know what? I think I finally figured it out. It wasn’t just the view; it was our collective experience—the joy of being together, of sharing the same space and the same awe. That window wasn’t just a frame for the beauty of Tuscany; it was a portal to memories that will stay with me forever. And maybe, just maybe, that’s the best part of all: it’s not about the window, but the way we all saw it, together.

Ciao Ciao!

Terri

Multiple photo credits to: Olivia Hudson, Bill Tomoff, Jodie Smith, Linda Misencik, Beth Tomoff. The lead photo I took was the first thing in the morning before heading out for the day. One image was taken from the kitchen window (you can tell from the smaller radiator), only 15 feet from the dining room table on the same side.

Ciao Ciao!

Terri