Far off (as all good things are) in one of the four distant pasture and calla lily-lined corners of our rounded map, lies the best office in the world. You might not recognize it when you first see it. There are no electrical cords, no cubical walls, you won’t miss the printer, hell with the door. What is a window for? Because this is the best office in the world.
Little did I know, I have been searching for the best office in the world. Actually I had no idea I was in the hunt until I came upon the catch. But I did, I found it, the contest is over, the search is off, call in the dogs. It has been found. The best office in the world.
On a sunlit Friday afternoon, I pulled up my bucket of flowers, pulled out my knife, rolled up my sleeves and stepped into this piece of fresh paradise. And if I love my job for nothing more, it is for giving me these magic moments of stone benches inside green gardens, grandparents who silently companion you with a book, friends who are like sisters, their children, their parents who sharpen your tools and welcome you like their own, Estrella Galicia, cecina and homemade wine, drunk in the last lights of April’s elongating days. Bridal bouquets. Hand-picked and woven in threads of lavender petal and lush leaf. This, this, this, is the best office in the world.