Tuscany is a place overflowing with history and beauty, where masterpieces of art and architecture greet you at nearly every turn. Yet, what truly captivates me are its simpler, homier charms: the sweetness of sun-ripened tomatoes, the creamy softness of fresh mozzarella, the wildflowers on the side of the road, the terracotta planter pots, the hand painted pottery, the linen fabrics and the aroma of basil and garlic that fills the air.
But something I discovered today was that I love the cosy feeling of when it rains in Tuscany. There’s a quiet romance in the way rain falls on mother earth over Tuscany.
As the first drops begin to fall on the terracotta rooftops and cobblestone streets, the rolling hills turn a deeper, more vivid green, as if nature itself is taking a deep breath and exhaling in gentle sighs of mist. In this moment, Tuscany sheds its sun-drenched, postcard-perfect allure to reveal something softer, more intimate—a kind of beauty that speaks not to the eye but to the soul.
If there’s a place in the world where rain feels like poetry, it’s Tuscany. It’s a rain that doesn’t rush, a rain that lingers, inviting me to linger with it—to find beauty in the grey, warmth in the chill, and love in the quiet moments between the drops.
As I meandered about my rainy day, I wrote down a few reflections on my simple yet meaningful moments
Hot Chocolate and Cantucci
Wrapping my green plaid woollen yoga shawl around my body I put a cantucci on a cute hand painted plate and sat down by the window cupping the mug of my hot chocolate.
Italian hot chocolate, or cioccolata calda, is a rich and indulgent treat that’s worlds apart from the typical hot cocoa. It’s thick, velvety, and intensely chocolatey, almost like a melted chocolate bar in a cup. Made with high-quality dark chocolate, whole milk, and a touch of cornstarch to achieve its signature thickness, cioccolata calda offers a luxurious experience where the warmth and depth of the chocolate unfold with every taste, offering a moment of pure indulgence, perfect for rainy afternoons or cozy evenings.
The simple beauty of cantucci lies in their rustic charm and honest flavours. These golden, almond-filled biscuits, baked twice to achieve their signature crispness, evoke the warmth of an Italian kitchen and the traditions that have flourished there for generations. There’s something comforting in their modest, unadorned appearance, each piece a testament to the art of simplicity.
When dipped into a warm cup of hot chocolate, the hard exterior softens just enough, releasing the subtle sweetness of toasted almonds and hints of vanilla. It’s a humble pleasure, yet one that invites me to slow down, to appreciate the quiet ritual of enjoying something crafted with care, connecting me to a culture that finds beauty in the small, enduring moments.
Reading a book
The streets, usually alive with laughter, feels wrapped in a blanket of quiet. The rain hushes the world, encouraging me to listen to the melody of water tapping against the windows and trickling down the uneven stones of my villa. It’s a sound that resonates with a sense of stillness, like a slow heartbeat. A sound that inspires me to carve out a little time to read my book "Under The Tuscan Sun".
There’s a quiet, almost sacred joy in reading a book while the rain softly falls outside. As raindrops tap against the window, their gentle rhythm becomes a comforting soundtrack, wrapping me in a cocoon of stillness.
The world beyond the glass fades into a blur of mist and silvery streaks, making the words on the page feel even more vivid and alive. Each page turn feels deliberate, almost luxurious, as if time itself has slowed down to invite me to savour the moment.
The scent of rain mixes with the earthy aroma of paper, creating a subtle intimacy between the story in my hands and the world outside. It’s a moment of pure immersion, where the rain blurs the line between reality and imagination, and the cozy solitude becomes a refuge where I can lose myself in the words of Frances Mayes while the outside streets quietly refreshes itself.
Cosy corner in an osteria
Walking through the streets of Stia, the rain draws me into the embrace of narrow alleyways, where raindrops collect on ancient stone walls, and funnel down the stonework and create tiny streams between the spaces of the cobblestone pathway. Seeking refuge, I find myself drawn to a local osteria, its warm lights glowing softly against the gray sky. Inside, the air is heavy with the aroma of aged Chianti, fresh bread, and olive oil.
Sitting at a cosy corner table looking out the window, the rain’s patter outside makes the glass of wine in my hand feel warmer, and conversations seem more intimate, with voices lowered in deference to the moment. Sipping slowly, tasting not just the wine, but the essence of Tuscany—its soil, its sun, and now, its rain.
Walking in the rain
Something I love to do is walk in the rain with an umbrella. After lunch I decided to walk the 30 minute walk up the hill to our castle residence to burn off some carbs whilst enjoying the green rolling hills of the countryside. Meandering up the windy road I stop to admire the houses, the trees, the gardens and the wildflowers.
The rain gently falls, softening the soil and deepening the fragrance of the lavender, rosemary and greenery all around me. There’s something dreamlike in the way the fog rolls in, settling like a delicate veil over the landscape.
Walking past rows of olive trees, their leaves glisten with droplets, and the air is thick with the rich, earthy scent of wet soil and leaves. It’s as if the rain is breathing life back into the land. I stop off to pick a bunch of white field daisies and blue cornflowers.
And then there’s the green rolling hills and historical castle that I slowly ascend up towards, where the rain weaves its magic most completely. The green Tuscan hills, already so lush and inviting, seem to breathe in the rain, their contours softened by a delicate mist that blurs the line between sky and earth. Cypress trees stand silently tall, their dark green foliage blending with the silvery sheen of the rain. It’s a landscape transformed, painted in shades of mystery and tenderness.
Walking up the hill, I put in my earplugs and hit play on a spotify playlist of Andrea Bocelli. Listening to him as I take a walk in the rain feels like a poetic merging of voice and landscape, a serenade to the soul. His voice seems to echo off the rolling hills, embracing the misty land in a warm, familiar embrace. There’s something profoundly moving about hearing his music in the place where they were born. Bocelli’s voice, with its deep emotion and effortless grace, captures the essence of Tuscany itself; where his songs feel less like music and more like the heartbeat of the land.
Tuscany in the rain is a love letter written in mist and shadow, it's an invitation to see beyond the postcard-perfect blue skies and golden sunsets, to experience the softer, quieter side of this land—a side that whispers of old love stories and memories carried on the rain.
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