It’s always the colder months spent here in England that make me particularly miss the sweet caress of the Italian sun. Watching flecks of gold and auburn dance upon a bed of sapphire crystals. Surrounded by an enclosure of mountains that look almost too picturesque to really be there. As though they are mere paintings, carefully placed to enhance the beautiful illusion.

There are many things I miss about that place. I miss its unrefined, yet captivating beauty. I miss the romantically historic charm of cobbled streets. I miss the scent of pine and fresh rosemary wafting through the tepid air. But most of all, I miss the break of dawn. Crisp air and dew soaked gardens bring forth the fluorescence of a green spectrum that is later consumed, when the mighty sun reaches its pique and bestows its amber hues across the horizon on those scorching summer days.

Those fleeting moments of coolness, when the morning air offers kisses of soothing sentiments, are the perfect accompaniment to a freshly brewed pot of earl grey tea and an array of delicate pastries and sweet, hand picked peaches. The aromas of bergamot and fresh lemon complimenting the al fresco breakfast setting overlooking the blue - but far from solemn looking - waters that stretch to the edges of the mountain fences. Those blue swatches that look as though they are inviting you to come and bathe the day away, making you feel as careless, calm and as free as the waves themselves.