One could easily miss the sharp and narrow turn in the winding road. In fact, within metres it changed to a gravel path, with sunflower fields on the left and small homes on the right, which seemed like they’d been there for centuries. The sunflowers were a clear sign of the past two months of the heat wave. The plants stood tall, but the flowers had burnt and wilted. Driving ahead slowly, there emerged the expansive grey stone property. Tastefully built, it had large glass doors on the ground floor, with a dining area on the left that could easily seat 20 people, extending to a porch outside with space for more. That porch had a shed of grape vines, from which happened to hang fully grown grapes in black, red and green. Beyond the porch were rows after rows of symmetrically-running grape vines. The vineyard had dark Cabernet Sauvignon grapes ready for harvest. That westside view was also accessible from the first-floor bedroom window. The sun setting in the distance, behind the hills had a bright, golden-orange hue. The Tuscan sun. Its low rays pierced through and overpowered every sense, every thought; giving way to a night sky filled with stars.
