Last night TV Stevie and I watched the season finale of a popular television show. Many of the scenes were shot in Scotland and featured lovely landscapes. And the entire time I was watching, I was thinking, "I'm part Scottish, yet that looks cold, damp, and miserable." I have no desire to return to either my Scottish or my Irish (or English or Welsh) roots. My ancestors left for a reason. I'll bet climate played a part.
If I ever go abroad, I'm going someplace warm. Someplace dry. I dream of red wine, foods marinated in olive oil, and dusty herb gardens. There are no boots, mittens, or heavy coats. I'd rather hear Pan's pipe than bagpipes. This longing hasn't changed in decades.
Top spot in my bucket list of dream destinations is Greece. I blame author Mary Stewart for this. My Brother Michael, The Moonspinners, and This Rough Magic are three of my favorite novels of all time.
Second on my list is Spain. Again, the warm and dry climate prevails.
After that, in no particular order, are the south of France, northern Italy, and Australia. Not tropical Australia, but the warm, dry part.
Sense a theme here?
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