Mid-May is my season of Tuscan Fever. It’s not a common abnormality but I get it every year. It’s an illness I’ve learned to celebrate. On the other side of the earth, a couple dozen Tuscans have come down with the same ailment. Our social media message boxes seem to acknowledge our collective seasonal anticipation. Three important things sit on my mind a few times each day for the coming weeks, prior to our departure to the old country. First, is Larriano going to suffice one more year or should I spin those Italian language CD’s I can get for free at the library? Next, what can I do in the next many days to up my game behind the camera? My camera manufacturer provides no-cost classes that renew the basic skillset that seems to leave my mind on the flight home every year. And finally, is there another book waiting to be released? I love writing the stories of this little American family landing in a tiny village each year, to be welcomed almost as if this is the annual summer drive to aunt Jan’s house in Kansas. Based on the projects and events ahead of me before we leave, I’ll be lucky if I just charge the battery for my SLR.

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