The Origin: Why This Substack

This was never the plan.

I have found myself in the outskirts of Florence, Italy, in a hundred-year-old farmhouse with three acres of land.

Surrounded by olive trees and an abandoned vineyard I have found myself. 

 In a garden where tomatoes grow, in a place where my family feels grounded and safe I am finding myself every day and in every season.

I have many stories to share.

There is an international romance behind this life, long distance, with nearly forty years of history, lived between California, Florence, and many places in between. There are stories about being married across cultures, about learning to argue in Italian, and about raising children growing up with two first languages.

There are stories about community, beauty, and depth.

There are stories about missing the ease of America.

There are reflections on what I wish each place could learn from the other.

I am writing this Substack because we are living in turbulent times. Like many people, I wake up to news that shatters and overwhelms me. When that happens, I turn to creative expression, not out of desperation, but out of a need to stay grounded in something more than the daily headlines.

I believe deeply in creativity. I believe in expression. And I believe in community. 

It is not always easy to make space for creativity when it feels as though all we should be doing is marching in the streets, calling our representatives and protecting our neighbors and our rights. But I know that staying grounded matters. Living with intention, joy, and creativity allows me to remain present for my family, my friends, my community, and my country. This is a marathon not a sprint. We resist and push back against the hatred and the cruelty. We raise our voices and we vote every chance we get. But we also must allow for beauty and joy and art. Not to avoid the horror but to resist it and reinforce ourselves so that we do not crumble and check out. I hesitated to begin this project because my stories are trivial compared to the pain in the world. But I need this and I hope that you will find something of value.

Even though I no longer live in the United States, I am a deeply committed patriot. I love America, its promise and its flaws alike. Living overseas does not diminish that love. 

So I write here. I share my life as an act of self-preservation, and in the hope that it offers something to others: a window, a pause, a small piece of beauty that might bring comfort or a smile.

There will be practical stories here. What I have learned about olive trees. How olive oil is pressed, and how it looks when it first comes out, cloudy and green, with a spicy flavor that mellows over time. There will be stories about Italian bureaucracy that make you laugh, because otherwise you would cry. There will be stories about growing vegetables side by side with my husband’s father who shares my love of the land.

There will also be stories about living between cultures and between languages. About feeling homesick, and at the same time, deeply at home. About learning how to hold both.

I named this My Tuscan Backyard because we moved into a house that has a backyard more miraculous than anything I could have imagined. 

I moved from a manicured American suburb to a place alive with the flora and fauna. This land grounds me. It keeps me steady. It is where I am learning how to farm, how to make wine, how to live responsibly in a historic place, how to renew the ground beneath my feet, and how to honor the community around us.

That is why I started this Substack.

It is a place for creativity, attention, and care. A place to notice what endures, even when the world feels unsteady.

If you’d like to stay, I’d be glad to have you here.

You can subscribe to receive the next letter, written from this land, as the seasons continue to turn.