By Penny Brome

My sister Janet and I have found many ways to enjoy life, ever since the days when we let our dolls “jump” out of trees, but one of her best ideas was getting us to a villa in Tuscany for a week this past September with six other women. She knew of a Villa and we invited friends, and friends of friends and soon there were eight of us, including Jean Heyl rfom Kendal, emailing back and forth about plane tickets, where else we’d go, (some to Florence, some to Venice), how much to put in the kitty for food and gas (200E – more than enough). We looked at tiny pictures online and agreed we couldn’t wait to get there!

As we arrived in twos and threes I saw my own reaction reflected in new friend’s faces. It was one of pure dumbfounded joy. We were in such a beautiful, perfect place. As soon as we found someone to unlock the iron gate and climbed the stairs to the largest terrace, I knew I would be completely happy as long as we stayed. There is something about being high up above the blue-green sea and looking down from a tiled terrace surrounded by gardens to the waves splashing on rocks below that leads to total contentment. The Villa itself had large high ceilinged rooms, tiled floors, a mixture of antique and odd furniture, good and amateur paintings, large shuttered windows and reasonably modern plumbing.

We led a charmed life at our beautiful Villa. The weather was warm and breezy ending with one storm of dramatic waves on the last day. We had delicious cheese and wine and fruit and sometimes our two English friends cooked the kind of meals that start hours ahead of time, and once we all climbed into our little car -  crowded together like circus clowns – and went to a nearby seafood restaurant. Groups of three, four and five of us went off for a long day in Siena or Pisa, or to our closest village of Castiglioncello. Some went to Cinque Terre to hike. Some drove along a nearby wine tour stopping for lunch in a lovely little restaurant.  Jean and I were glad we went to Pisa and on the wine tour, but almost begrudged any time away from the Villa.  My sister loved seeing as much of Italy as she could. We all kept splitting up and moving in different directions and then coming together to eat on the terrace or swim in the sea or read in the living room in the evening.  We laughed easily, helped without effort, enjoyed our conversations.

We would look at each other in amazement. Here we were in this beautiful place up above the perfect turquoise and deep blue sea. There was usually a light breeze and a slight scent of pine under the warm sun.  We could sit and read or paint or talk or dream in any of our secluded places – the covered garden benches, tiled terraces, grassy roofed pavilions – or go down the worn and handsome stairway to the sea.  Time did not matter.  I felt we could have been there in the same way a hundred years ago.

Our beautiful Villa already has a mythic quality for me.  I can close my eyes and be there, high up on the terrace under the warm sun, looking down at the lovely sea.  I am so glad Jean’s wonderful pictures prove it really exists.