In Love with France, At Home In Italy

As a woman of what the French like to call “un certain  â ge,” (68 to be precise), I find myself thinking a lot about legacy. A few days ago, in the garden of a Farnese palace, two topiaries in the shape of an acorn (“ghianda”) caught my eye—a living piece of the Farnese legacy.  Now “ghianda” is not a word that comes up every day, but yesterday while we were harvesting our olives, it came up again, this time not from my dictionary, but from a neighbor who was helping us with our fourth harvest from the baby trees we planted here in Umbria. Four hundred kilos of olives later, while packing up, she noticed the many acorns in our driveway and started collecting them “for the pigs.” I had often wondered if those acorns had a use, and should not have been surprised to learn that Mamma Natura does not fritter away an opportunity. Who knew that I had on my own property something that a growing pig would consider a delicious treat? That’s when the quote about...