Essere Gentile

For years now, the soul of our garden has been Nimal, who tends to it with a grace so natural it almost feels magical. I often catch myself standing still, watching him as he gently prunes the ancient olive trees, or as he weaves colours and scents into the flower beds with effortless intuition — as if the earth itself whispered its secrets to him. Nimal comes from Sri Lanka. He never studied gardening, yet every gesture of his tells a story of wisdom learned through touch, through breath, through listening. He roams through the garden from dawn to dusk, bare-chested under the sun, his dark hair tangled with blades of grass and tiny flowers. He smells the mosses, tastes the breeze, and seems to exchange secret conversations with every citrus tree. Through this silent dialogue, he has become — with moving dedication — an extraordinary gardener, and he is teaching us lessons that no book could ever hold. Recently, a new dream has taken root in his heart: the delicate cultivation of vanilla. He is crafting his own method, wildly original and a little mad — imagine growing vanilla in Tuscany! Yet Nimal smiles, and you can see he is truly at home here, connected to every root, every leaf — as if the garden were his own. And perhaps, it really is.
Nimal is, simply, one of the kindest souls you could ever meet.