The end of the year was filled with beautiful moments in my beloved city. In the Giardino di Boboli, above the Arno, in the Giardino delle Rose and the Fontane delle Rampe del Poggi, and the Piazza di San Giovanni. Admiring the sights and sounds of the city before and during the holidays.
Giardino di Boboli — November 16, 2025
Before lunchtime, I crossed Ponte alle Grazie, where some visitors sashayed across the bridge while others snapped selfies with the Ponte Vecchio in the background. The dark clouds loomed overhead even though patches of blue sky appeared and then disappeared.
I let out a sigh upon entering Giardino Bardini. I moved upward through the lower garden to the incline, where roses were in full bloom. I paused below the fruit trees and admired the vast panorama. The array of autumnal colors filled me with joy, as did the scent of roses and dried leaves. A gentle breeze swept across my face as the noon church bells chimed.
With the solemn sound still humming, I walked up to the pergola, across the terrace, into the villa, and exited the gardens.
I navigated through the curved roads and passed Forte Belvedere to arrive at the Giardino di Boboli.
Once inside, I took the first dirt path on the right and headed toward the pale green Kaffeehaus. I bypassed the first set of steps to pass the building and reach the other side.
I was looking forward to seeing the Garden of Ganymede with its pristine lawns, fruit trees, and its unique view of the Duomo. Only from select spots in the Boboli Gardens can you see the cupola. This one being my favorite.
The sun pierced the clouds, so the large hedges I stood next to cast their shadows on the grass.
Afterwards, I sat on the Fountain of Ganymede’s stone bench to admire the architecture of the iconic building before frolicking around the rest of the gardens.
All the yellow leaves fluttering from the branches of the London Plane and Ginkgo trees were the highlights of my jaunt. Especially those that detached themselves and floated to the ground.
Ponte Vecchio — November 22, 2025
The golden lights strung up across Via dei Tornabuoni sparkled as I strolled below them. Sharps gusts of wind whisked by me as I headed toward Ponte Santa Trinita, no longer protected by the tall palazzi. I dug my hands deep into my pockets and hugged my body as I approached the bridge.
A group of bicyclists stopped on the bridge to listen to their tour guide. Behind them, I noticed the Ponte Vecchio over my shoulder. It too had Christmas lights, shaped like large chandeliers, hung above the Cellini monument.
I reached the middle of the bridge and faced west. Once the tour group departed, I heard only the murmur of the people in the distance. Between the pitch-black sky and the gloomy water, the Ponte Vecchio was ablaze. It exhibited itself as the centerpiece of the riverscape on this cold evening.
Giardino delle Rose/Fontane delle Rampe del Poggi — November 29, 2025
When I awoke, the skies were clear, but within an hour, they grew dark and quickly poured water onto the city. The stones on the road were glistening, and water slid down the sides of the buildings.
As soon as a wedge of blue sky appeared, I popped outside. With my rain jacket on and an umbrella in my purse, I headed straight for the Arno.
While crossing Ponte alle Grazie, I hopped from one side of the bridge to the other. The sun was ablaze, lighting up the buildings and creating reflections on the water.
While I was passing through Piazza Demidoff, the sun illuminated the yellow leaves of the tall trees. In that moment, I knew where to go: the Giardino delle Rose.
I hopped from one rosebush to another, snapping photos of the roses weighed down by raindrops. The scent of wet grass and leaves wove its way around me. I approached a few flowers to inhale their perfume: soft and uplifting.
One couple and a family of four passed through the garden, avoiding the muddy areas. For long periods of time, I was alone. The hum of the city wafted through the gardens while the water in the fountain flowed and a few birds chirped.
I sat on a stone bench along the path to take in my surroundings. The Duomo hovered over my right shoulder as the sun was caressing my face. The clouds steadily drifted east as gusts of wind swept by, making the leaves on the rose bushes, blades of grass, olive trees, and cypresses sway. The sound was like a joyful hum or a soft cheer.
I exited through the upper gate to reach Viale Poggi. Instead of walking down to go home, I walked toward the Fontane delle Rampe del Poggi. The wind whispered past, occasionally carrying snippets of conversation and the rhythmic thud of footsteps. A sense of serenity washed over me as I gazed upon the panorama. People passed me, but only a few paused to enjoy the panorama, on their way to Piazzale Michelangiolo.
Once the bells chimed throughout the city, I headed home.
Piazza San Giovanni — December 13, 2025
The bells were chiming as I walked through Piazza della Signoria. Delivery trucks were lined up along Via Calzaiuoli. While circling Orsanmichele, I paused in front of the Madonna della Rosa. The cool, humid air enveloped me.
The holiday lights, unlit so early in the morning, dangled overhead as I strolled along Via Calimala. I continued past Piazza Repubblica, admiring the empty street before me. I was hoping to see them lighting up the dark skies, but they weren’t. I exhaled the moment I saw the Battistero and the Duomo. The glowing white marble façades perked me up.
My eyes remain fixed on the scenery. I perceived a few stragglers traversing the piazza, but did not look at them. However, when taxis and trucks sped by with their headlights emitting a golden light, I had to look in case they didn’t see me.
After a few moments of communing with the heart of Florence, I inhaled and then continued my stroll across town.
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