By Diana Baur

The highest part of our season is upon us.  The B&B is bustling with activity:  people are tasting wine while watching the tractors carry loads of grapes to be pressed, we’ve been holding water color lessons and pottery lessons and Italian lessons, laughing and philosophizing.

Guests become friends and we hug them before the drive away.  They come from Switzerland and Germany and Denmark and the USA and everyother imaginable place.   The days fly by, starting early and ending late.  I am collapsing into bed, mountains of laundry behind me and loaves of unbaked bread in front of me.  It’s the same every year.

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