If I am ambling through a garden, watching a sunset, or running an errand, Florence never ceases to delight me with her beauty. Ordinary moments become extraordinary every time I revel in my surroundings.
Scalinata di Via Crucis — January 23, 2025
After walking through San Niccolò, I passed under the Porta San Miniato and headed straight up the incline to the Giardino delle Rose. Right before the entrance in the curved stone wall, I noticed the Scalinata di Via Crucis had reopened.
I rushed to the renovated steps and stood at the bottom. The wide, paved, steps welcomed me. I climbed my way to the top, embraced by the gardens on my left and the towering cypresses and new crosses on my right.
The Duomo captivated me each time I paused to view the panorama. As the clouds approached, the prospect of rain increased. I took in deep breaths to savor hints of damp dirt, slick stones, and freshly cut grass rippling through the winter air.
Upon reaching the Giardino delle Rose’s open gate, I crossed the threshold and let my shoulders drop. I made a beeline for the grassy area where pruned rose bushes stood. After sniffing a few of the roses, I sat on the stone barrier near the fountain. In the area before me, where a large cat sculpture resides, a wood pigeon with its white collar pecked at the damp soil. The gardens were silent enough to hear only the fountain sharing its melodious flow of water, which encouraged me to relax even further.
Darker gray clouds, spewing droplets of water, arrived from the east. The darkest ones hovered over the centro storico. With water sprinkling on my face, I continued to scan the rooftops and bell towers that filled in the space between the garden and the Duomo.
Once the drizzle turned to rain, I returned to the exit and walked down the scalinata, enjoying every step of viewing Florence just beyond the stone wall.
Ponte Santa Trinita — January 26, 2025
The sky from my windows had a golden glow, which I hadn’t noticed when I was walking through the shadowy streets. Right after unpacking my groceries, I rushed back outside and into Florence’s arms.
Heading west, I passed Piazza dei Giudici, the Uffizi, and the Ponte Vecchio to arrive at Lungarno degli Acciaiuoli. I breathed in the expansive sky, overlooking the chain linked fence blocking off the road. All the pedestrians were funneled onto a narrower sidewalk. I slowed down my pace until the end of the fence, where we all spilled out into the street, enjoying more space around us.
I found my spot in the middle of Ponte Santa Trinita and leaned my legs against the cold stone barrier. The sun had already disappeared behind the tall palazzi, but continued to set the clouds aglow. Not only the ones above the Arno, but also those above Via Tornabuoni.
As the shimmering water reflected the riverscape, I inhaled the chilly air, smelling of algae-filled water. It perked up my senses, giving me a feeling of buoyancy.
In the distance, the merry-go-round flashed its multicolored lights as it turned. Seagulls traveled high in the sky toward the west in a V formation.
Once the clouds appeared a darker gray, the temperatures dropped. The wind sped by, sending a chill under my rain jacket. I wrapped my scarf tighter around my neck and zipped up my jacket, covering my neck.
With my hands in my pockets, I peered at the horizon as if it were a crystal ball. I didn’t want to leave, but decided I would wait for the street lamps to flicker on. Once they did, I bid the sun farewell and returned home.
Giardino Bardini — February 17, 2025
After a string of rainy days, I woke up to sunny skies. I was almost giddy walking across Ponte alle Grazie. My mind brought up images of my last visit to the Giardino Bardini when the skies were gray.
I crossed paths with many pedestrians—mostly couples and small families—to reach the other side of the Arno.
After making my way through the villa, I smiled at the gardens beyond the glass doors. When I stepped onto the pebbles, my shoulders relaxed to welcome Mother Nature's serene energy.
I passed by tiny yellow jasmine petals that had gathered on the ground below the cascading bushes. As I continued my climb through the garden, I delighted in the miniature daisies that were poking out of the lawn.
My pace was steady until I reached the terrace in front of the coffeehouse. Gusts of wind kept the faint clouds at bay, allowing them to only encircle the outskirts of the city.
After walking through the olive grove, I tiptoed around the camellia bushes. Their colorful blossoms hinted that spring was approaching fast. When I looked over my shoulder, I spotted the Palazzo Vecchio and the Duomo, just beyond the dark shadow etched on the green grass. The joyful scenery uplifted my spirits.
I then walked through the grounds along the narrow pathways, craning my neck to search for the chirping birds in the tall cypresses. I took in long, deep breaths of the fresh air.
After returning to the terrace, I retraced my steps back to the exit.
Lungarno Vespucci — February 24, 2025
The rain began well before I went outside. Not being fond of holding an umbrella while I weave my way through the streets, I put on my hooded raincoat.
I walked to Le Cascine, trying to stay close to the buildings to keep dry. Of course, I got wet anyway. After my morning appointment, the rain lightened as I walked along Lungarno Vespucci.
I crossed the street to get closer to the brick wall above the Arno. The sound of the water flowing over the weir was both soothing and exciting. I backed up to the bike lane to capture the scene in its entirety: San Frediano in Cestello across the jade-colored water that appeared as smooth as silk until it gushed over the weir, where it created a white wave that sped up the water.
A fine mist brushed my face as I continued along the Arno. When I reached Ponte Santa Trinita, I passed through the piazza, peering at Statua della Giustizia, and headed down Borgo Sant’Apostoli to take cover from the rain.
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