The Stones of Santa Lucia

If only those stones could speak, what stories they would tell … the ones I know about only date back to 1938 when my grandfather, a dashing man in his mid-forties, and my dad both fell in love with a ragged piece of property on the Etruscan Coast.

The nearby village in those days was nothing more than a few houses, a general store, a barber shop, a church and the “Central Bar” where the men gathered to drink coffee or a glass of wine and exchange stories about fishing and hunting. The village also had a small sprinkling of local artists who flocked to its shores to capture on their canvas the beautiful sunsets, the ocean breezes and the seagulls.

Both my father and grandfather could think of nothing better to escape the worries and the demands of their business in Florence than to build their dream house on the coast, and so it began …

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