The stories I collected while I wasn’t publishing.
It has been nine months since I last clicked Publish.
Looking back, nine months seems both incredibly long and surprisingly short. Gardens move through the seasons. Stories quietly take root. Families change. Most of all, life has a way of filling every corner before we realize how much time has passed.
What surprised me most was how much life continued to fill the pages, even though I wasn’t sharing them.
I never stopped collecting stories or chasing down the little details that so often reveal the heart of a place or the people who call it home. I continued photographing places that deserved to be remembered, editing images long after I returned home, and disappearing into historical rabbit holes simply because one question inevitably led to another.
Books continued to pile up beside my favorite chair, research folders multiplied on my computer, and my notebooks filled with observations that I wasn’t quite ready to turn into articles.
Perhaps more importantly, I never stopped paying attention.
Stepping away from publishing gave me the unexpected gift of observing life from a slightly different perspective. Instead of constantly asking myself what I should write next, I found myself asking what was worth noticing. I paid closer attention to conversations with family and friends, the books I was reading, the little moments that rarely make it into photographs, the way a place reveals itself when you aren’t rushing to meet a deadline, and the quiet stories that often hide inside ordinary days. Perhaps more than anything, I found myself listening to the echoes and rhythms of everyday life.
The curiosity never disappeared. Neither did the stories or the desire to keep learning. What quietly slipped away was the pace of sharing those discoveries. For a little while, I became content simply collecting them, trusting they would find their way to the page when the time was right.
At first I blamed being busy, which wasn’t entirely untrue. This year has been wonderfully full. Our son will be getting married in August, and anyone who has ever planned a wedding knows how quickly life becomes measured in guest lists, menu ideas, rehearsal dinners, and the hundreds of small decisions that somehow lead to one unforgettable day.
My desk has spent months buried beneath wedding notes, seed catalogs, recipes, and enough lists to convince a reasonable person that I am planning a royal banquet rather than a backyard rehearsal dinner with a wood-fired pizza oven.
Looking back, I wouldn’t change a single thing. Every unexpected detour, every postponed plan, and every shift in priorities has quietly led me here. I’m beginning to think the scenic route almost always offers the best stories… and a few surprises you never saw coming.
Somewhere between seed catalogs and packages, rehearsal dinner menus, and wondering whether the basil would cooperate, I realized another milestone had been quietly making its way toward me.
Later this year I’ll turn sixty.
My younger self would have been far more startled by that sentence than I am today.
A Wider Lens
Now that I’ve nearly reached this milestone, it has simply become part of my own story, and, strangely enough, I find myself looking forward to it. Age has a curious way of sharpening your focus. I’ve stopped worrying so much about writing what I think I should write and have become far more interested in writing what refuses to leave me alone: the stories that keep resurfacing, the questions that lead to another book, another journey, another rabbit hole of research, or another photograph that has been patiently waiting for me to notice it.
Looking back, I realized something else.
When I started Drink In Life eight years ago, I simply wanted a place to remember. It was part journal, part photo album, part travel notebook…a place to collect the places I explored, the wines I was studying, the books I was reading, the recipes I wanted to make again, and the little moments I hoped time wouldn’t erase.
An Album of my Life.
Over the years, that little journal slowly became something more. I discovered how much I loved researching a destination, interviewing the people behind a winery, uncovering the history of a small town, and writing stories that might inspire someone else’s journey. Somewhere along the way, though, I realized I had gradually stopped writing quite so much for myself.
There is nothing wrong with that. In many ways, it became exactly the career I had hoped to build.
Yet these past nine months reminded me how much I missed the balance.
I missed following my curiosity without wondering where it might lead. I missed photographing an old bookstore simply because it caught my eye. I missed writing down a recipe, a quote from a novel, or a garden observation without worrying whether it belonged in a travel article.
Then it finally occurred to me. Perhaps I never needed to choose. Drink In Life has always been big enough for both.
The Things I Forgot to Tell You
As a lifelong reader, I have often thought that novels give us a slightly misleading view of life. They celebrate beginnings and endings. They linger over departures, weddings, discoveries, and long-awaited arrivals because those moments neatly divide one chapter from the next. Yet the older I get, the more fascinated I become by everything that happens in between. The years spent building a life, tending a garden, sharing meals with family and friends, getting wonderfully lost on unfamiliar roads, changing your mind, discovering a new passion, or quietly becoming someone your younger self never imagined.
I have always been drawn to writers who understand that the most meaningful stories are rarely built around life’s biggest moments. Barbara Kingsolver and Wallace Stegner have both mastered the art of finding beauty in ordinary afternoons, familiar landscapes, shared meals, gardens, and the slow unfolding of a life. Their novels remind me that the chapters we remember most are often the ones where, at first glance, nothing extraordinary seemed to happen at all.
I think that’s one of the greatest gifts these past nine months have given me. Not a new direction, but a wider lens through which to see the stories that have been there all along.
Wine and travel will always remain at the heart of Drink In Life because they remain at the heart of my life. I’ll still be wandering through vineyards, exploring historic towns, discovering remarkable restaurants, and sharing the wines, destinations, and experiences that I think are worth seeking out. Those stories aren’t going anywhere.
Wandering the Vineyards of Abruzzo for my Article: Navigating Abruzzo’s Wine Regions
What you may begin seeing more often are the stories waiting at home between the journeys. The garden I’m forever convinced will produce just one more tomato. The stack of books beside my chair that somehow keeps getting taller. The novels that continue to take shape one chapter and one revision at a time. A favorite recipe, a quilt I just completed spread across the lawn, an afternoon spent chasing a bit of forgotten history simply because curiosity refused to let it go.
Those parts of my life have always been here. I simply forgot to invite you into them.
Which brings me back to where this all began. This isn’t the beginning of a new chapter.
It’s the beginning of a new book.
If the last nine months taught me anything, it’s that the stories worth telling are often the ones we never planned to write. I have a feeling there are quite a few of those waiting just around the next bend and I’d love to share them with you.
Whether you’ve been reading Drink In Life since the beginning or you’ve only just found your way here, thank you for stopping by.
I hope you’ll turn the page with me.
Before you turn the page, I’d love to hear from you. What stories have been quietly unfolding in your own life these past few months? Tell me about a place you’ve discovered, a book you’ve loved, something you’ve grown, a recipe worth sharing, or simply a small moment that reminded you to slow down and drink in life.
About Elaine
Elaine is an international award-winning travel writer, wine writer, photographer, and WSET Level 3 wine professional who believes every destination has a story worth telling. Through Drink In Life, she explores wine, travel, gardens, books, food, and the quiet moments that make a life well lived.
All text and images © 2026 Drink In Life Blog & Drink In Nature Photography. All rights reserved