I'm reading A Thousands Days in Tuscany. Read this little bit about a 60 year old Tuscan woman:
I run down to meet Floriana who is breathless from her hike. She stops in the road, the last light at her back. Prickles of rain cling to her unkerchiefed, loosened hair, capturing in her the flickering russet frame of it. Topaz almonds are her eyes, lit tonight from some new, old place, from some exquisitely secret oubliette, which she must often forget she possesses. We talk for a minute and Barlozzo passes us by like a boy too shy to speak to two girls at once.
I like authors who enjoy language. Mostly the book is a sleepy account of countryside, local people, and food. Its a great escape from this bitter February.