You catch the mayor at lunch
The commune has introduced a tourist tax. The letter is still sitting unopened on the table. I'd rather be in the trees. Meanwhile, the mayor was at the Circolo on Friday. My step-uncle saw his opportunity.
Tuscan Dream Newsletter — March 2026
After weeks of heavy rain, the sun is back. The daisies are out. The first leaves are showing on the pomegranate trees. The neighbour has broad beans planted next to his vines — an old trick that fixes nitrogen in the soil, protecting what matters. He's always a step ahead.
I'm still pruning. It's not a weekend job. The first tiny shoots are beginning to appear on the branches. Every morning, I'm out earlier, working faster, aware that the Mignolatura - arrival of tiny white Mignole flower clusters that turn into olives - is coming soon. Il Risveglio. The awakening. The season has its own calendar, and mine doesn't matter.
Meanwhile, the commune has introduced a tourist tax. The letter is still sitting unopened on the table. I'd rather be in the trees.
The old solar panels remain stacked up, stuck in bureaucratic limbo — we still can't get anyone to collect them. The problem, in simple terms, is that we are not a registered solar panel installer, and the one who installed them is bankrupt. No one will come pick them up and sign the form we need to give to the regulating agency. It's been several months.
The house sits at the end of an unpaved road, making rubbish collection unreliable and complicated. My step-uncle was losing his mind about it. Then, on Friday at the local Circolo Sportivo (village club), the mayor was there. He saw his opportunity. The following Monday, the garbage truck arrived. Not forms, not offices, not emails. You catch the mayor and his entourage at lunch. That's how things get done here.
The nine cats seem happy with the imminent arrival of spring. Each with their own territory — under the trees, on the garage roof, in the grove. They follow my step-uncle everywhere - waiting for him near the gate when he goes out. He is the pied piper of cats, and he doesn't seem to mind.
The Land: Finish the pruning of the pomegranate and olive trees. April brings copper sulphate and lime spray to protect against fungi and bacteria, and organic fertiliser. Also, check the Cherry, Plum, and Pear trees for disease and remove any affected leaves. The land always has the next job ready before you've finished the current one.
The Villa: Fence replacement and Pergola maintenance planned. Painting, repairs, preparation for first visitors in April and the May yoga retreat.
The Table: Risotto ai funghi. Tagliata, rucola, parmigiano al Circolo with a friend on his way to Sportorno, Liguria, for an adventure bike ride. Too good. The artichokes - sliced thin with lemon and oil - are coming. The Baccelli e Pecorino season is just beginning (raw young broad beans with a wedge of Pecorino Toscano DOP and a young, Chianti or Ciliegolo). The wild asparagus - perfect for risotto or frittata - is almost on us.
Tuscany: Driving back from Rome, crossing from Lazio, you feel it before you see it. Hillier, Lusher. The road should by rights be an autostrada. It narrows to a single lane at intervals to allow turns into farms and villages. Nobody has fixed this. Nobody is going to. It made me smile. Tuscany knows exactly who it is. And doesn't need to change.
An Invitation to Unwind: The May retreat is full. The October Olive Harvest Retreat — The Yield — has been announced. 11–17 October 2026. → lifeunwound.ghost.io/wellness-and-yoga-retreats
