Last March, C woke me up early. “I want to show you something,” she said. I followed her, hurrying over the pale green hills somewhere outside Florence. Morning dew on the grass, cicadas humming, silver olive trees, wild asparagus, lavender, and rosemary. Her long blonde hair kept getting caught in bramble bushes. "Just a bit further," she said, searching the ground. Then she pointed. There it was—an orchid. Translucent purple. “They just appear mid-March,” she said. My birthday. “Little figures hanging in the wind,” C called them. They grow in a few places in Italy, but they’re facing extinction—because of the changing climate, the lack of care, the endless exploitation of land and resources, because of the never-ending greed. Like so many species. Fragile. Rare. C protects them, looks after them, makes sure they come back each year. That day, she gave me one of the most beautiful birthday gifts I’ve ever received: seeing the first orchids of the year.

Idyll is inspired by my time with my dear friend C at her organic farm, Terrafranta, in the hills near Florence—a place so beautiful, so unreal. I drew these letters last spring and summer as a love letter. A love letter to starry nights and midday heat. To sage, lavender, orchids, and bees. To our friendship, and to what might one day be lost forever.