We arrived for the olive harvest and left with full hearts (and suitcases of olive oil).
October in Tuscany is a different world. The summer crowds have gone, the light turns golden, and the hills come alive with the harvest.
We timed our visit to coincide with the olive harvest at a neighboring farm. The owner, a third-generation farmer named Marco, invited us to join his family for the picking. The kids thought it would be boring, until they tasted the fresh-pressed oil drizzled on warm bread.
The Tuscan Estate sits perfectly between two hill towns, each with its own personality. We spent mornings wandering stone streets, afternoons cooking in the villa's kitchen with ingredients from the morning market, and evenings watching the sunset paint the valley in shades of amber and rose.
One evening, we set up a long table in the garden. String lights overhead, candles flickering, platters of homemade pasta and local wine. The conversation flowed easily between Italian and English, between old friends and new ones. The kind of evening you wish you could bottle.
We left with three suitcases of olive oil, a jar of Marco's honey, and the promise to return next harvest.
