When we first moved to Italy, Jonathan and I were overwhelmed with the beauty of it. Every day, we marveled. Every day, we ate up the world around us in delight. Every day it seemed as though we had at last somehow -- magically -- found our way through that tiny door into the enchanted garden beyond.

Naturally, we worried. We worried that somehow we would over time become insensate -- numb through familiarity to the constantly unfolding loveliness around us. We worried that we would lose the ability to see it, to marvel at it, when our eyes were accustomed to it.

A different thing has happened, though. As we have adjusted to living here in lovely Capriglia-by-the-Sea, with its sweeping views of the sea and the clouds and the green of the olive groves and the hillsides covered with wildflowers, we seem to find more beauty, not less. We notice things all the time that have been there, but that we were perhaps too dazzled to see before now. 

I have walked past this planter, for example, on the main street in Pietrasanta easily a hundred times now, but I only noticed it a few days ago -- the beautiful terracotta fruits and vegetables at the base of it. It is a lovely planter, sitting quietly on the wall, waiting to be seen by someone paying attention. And all of Pietrasanta is like this -- tiny treasures everywhere once you notice them.

We have not lost our sense of wonder, after all. The more accustomed to our world here that we become, the more magic that we find.