I never planned to become a writer.

For thirty years I worked in American finance. It was a good career. It paid well, gave us a comfortable life in Newport Beach, California, and taught me a lot about business and people.

Then my partner and I did something that made very little sense.

We sold almost everything we owned, moved to rural France, bought a 250-year-old winery that needed far more work than we imagined, and started over.

That was supposed to be the adventure. Instead, it became the stories.

I don't write about France because I'm trying to convince anyone to move here. I write because France has become the setting where life keeps reminding me that plans are overrated, certainty is mostly an illusion, and the best stories usually begin the moment things stop going according to plan.

I still don't have France figured out. Frankly, I'm not convinced France has France figured out.

But somewhere between the vineyards, the bureaucracy, the dogs, the neighbors, and the endless renovation projects, we built a life that's far richer than the one we thought we were coming here to find.

I'm glad you're here.

— Paul