notes from liguria, italy

A Little Room for Wonder

By Margherita Patrone - Aug 8, 2026 - 4 min read - Issue #6

This week’s Notes from Liguria begins in a kitchen that is going through a small revolution.Today my nephew Leonardo is coming to stay with my parents, Luisella and Piero, and we are all buzzing with excitement.There is a quiche in the making with chard and onions from the garden, and a chocolate cake with our pears. They are tiny, slightly wild Ligurian pears, so this one is a bit of an experiment.We’ll see.Alongside the excitement, though, I noticed something else: a little nervousness.Four-year-olds are wonderfully unpredictable.So yesterday evening I found myself asking ChatGPT about Montessori, what to do when a four-year-old says no, what to do if he cries, what happens if he refuses to sleep, what activities I should prepare and, naturally, what else I should buy.And then I stopped.There is a behavioural tendency called action bias.When we feel uncertain, doing something can make us feel more in control, even when doing more is not necessarily better.Another plan.
Another activity.
Another thing to buy.
Another answer to find.I realised that perhaps I was not preparing for Leonardo anymore.I was preparing myself for the discomfort of not knowing exactly how the weekend would unfold.And then I looked around.We are in Liguria.There is a garden full of vegetables and fruit. There are olive trees, the sea, the swimming pool, shells to collect, cakes to bake and jam to make.What else does a child really need?So I decided to let go of the programme.The only thing I have for him is a little gardening kit that I actually bought almost a year ago and have been keeping for the right moment.This weekend, rather than trying to entertain Leonardo every minute, I want to show him the things I love.Gardening.
Baking.
Swimming.
Collecting shells.
Making jam.And perhaps, sometimes, doing absolutely nothing.Because I’m starting to think that boredom is not always something we need to rescue children, or ourselves, from.Sometimes an empty afternoon is where imagination begins.A stick becomes a sword.
A few stones become a collection.
A tiny pear becomes something worth studying.Maybe wonder needs a little empty space before it can arrive.So my plan for this weekend is surprisingly simple: fewer plans, more presence.And a little trust that not every beautiful moment needs to be organised in advance.Wish me luck.When was the last time you stopped trying to fill every empty space and allowed yourself to see what might emerge instead?Until next Saturday,
Margherita