As much as we enjoyed our time gallivanting in Paris, there is no greater feeling than coming back to my grandmother’s home in Portugal. Nestled between northern mountains in the very humble village of Paradela, it is the house where my mother and her 9 brothers + sisters were raised. It smells of rosemary + freshly pressed olive oil. It has a view of rolling fields + olive trees. The details haven’t changed in years. I love it there.
Enchanted with all of the house’s bits + pieces, I took a few photos while my family looked at me like I was a crazy person.
My family believes that hanging grapes in the house will prevent the money from running out. These will be replaced by the next harvest of grapes in September.
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