My travel journal entry October 6, 2011: Our villa is located in the remote countryside outside of a medieval village called Barbarino Val D’Elsa. The village is very small, with tiny streets, and— like most of the small towns in this area— has a cathedral in the center. Two days ago, I dropped Wyatt off near the village. He was going to walk around and find something to paint. That is how the process is evolving. Sometimes he knows in his head what he wants to paint that day, other times we ride around and something in the landscape, or on the side of the road will grab his attention. It must be working, because he has maintained an amazing pace of two paintings per day, and he says it’s his best work, ever. I can’t argue. When I returned to Barbarino Val D’Elsa two hours later, I walked into the cathedral in the center of the village while waiting on Wyatt. It was typical of the small catholic cathedrals we have seen scattered throughout Europe, except for one detail. Many of the cathedrals have huge marble sarcophagi or sections of the floor lined in marble where former church officials, bishops, and even saints are entombed. The cathedral in Barbarino has a glass sarcophagus with the body of someone still in there— and he ain’t looking too good. It’s a shock to see the drawn-up leathered and weathered face of a small man lying in a glass coffin next to the alter where, three days ago, I watched through a side door while children took communion. My friend, olive oil supplier, winemaker, and owner of the Tuscan villa we call home when in Italy, Enzo Corti commented, "In Tuscany you shouldn't be afraid of the dead priest, but the live one."