Since the beginning of the year, I have found solace in the Giardino delle Rose and Giardino Bardini. The year didn’t begin with a bang. It was more like a clunk. I ambled around Florence and kept my head down. Even though I love my beloved city’s architecture and museums, I craved a deeper connection with Mother Nature. I wanted to see the last few roses in January, the pruned rose bushes with only a handful of leaves, the brightly colored camellias blossoming in their leafy bushes, and the brilliant wildflowers that appeared almost out of nowhere.
During the first quarter of the year, I kept quiet, pondering my next steps and embracing time as my friend. Nature infuses me with patience, love, and an unwavering sense of peace. It was also in the gardens that I was inspired to write an anecdote. I took many other photos of Florence, as I’m always impressed by her beauty.
Giardino delle Rose — January 12, 2026
The sun streaming through my windows inspired me to venture into nature. With the chilly and wet conditions, I wasn’t interested in walking around the gardens. Upon returning to Florence after being away, I always visit the Giardino delle Rose. In the past, I would go on January 1st to celebrate the new year.
I smiled at the Ponte Vecchio while crossing Ponte alle Grazie. The hum of the rushing water over the weir was comforting to me. A gentle breeze swept by, flapping the sides of my down jacket. I breathed in the cool air with every step across the bridge and felt my city embrace me.
The sun beamed through the wispy clouds, offering its warmth, as I made my way through San Niccolò and up the incline to reach the Rose Garden.
I entered the opening in the stone wall and hiked up the uneven steps. A few women chatting together sat on the grass below an olive tree.
Once I reached the grassy area, where all the trimmed rose bushes stood, I paused. A single red rose illuminated by the sun rays peeking through the tall Cypresses caught my eye.
On my way to it, I noticed a few other roses. I approached each one and admired it. Their perfumes were delicate and sweet. Raindrops clung to the velvety petals, adorning the roses like jewels.
I carefully made my way through the rose bushes, avoiding the muddy areas. A few people navigated the garden from the paths without approaching the colorful blossoms.
I was overcome with joy when I found a fuchsia rose with its perky green leaves and two buds behind it. While taking its photo, I saw the Duomo and the Torre di Arnolfo in the background under clear skies. I loved the view so much that I returned before heading home.
This year’s first message: so much beauty already exists, and so much more will come.
Giardino Bardini — January 26, 2026
With rain in the forecast for the week ahead, I slipped outside last Thursday to take advantage of the spring-like weather. The sun warmed up the chilly air that grazed my face as I crossed Ponte alle Grazie.
On my way to Giardino Bardini, tall buildings along the narrow Via dei Bardi blocked the sunlight. Once I entered the entrance, I couldn’t wait to reach the garden. The moment I stepped onto the gravel path, I relaxed my shoulders. Birds were chirping from the bare trees, and the sun highlighted the trees and yellow jasmine blossoms.
I hiked up the stone steps, where the bright green grass perked me up even more. Along the incline below the fruit tree orchard. Not a single blossom could be found on the trimmed rose bushes.
Beneath the pergola, where brown wisteria seeds swayed, I gazed at the panorama.
After reaching the terrace, I stood on the dirt path alongside the olive grove and took in a deep breath. I circled the olive trees and rose bushes, enjoying the sweet scent of the grass strewn with black chestnuts and olives.
With a few paths closed, I walked past the limonaia (lemon house) and the dragon fountain before arriving next to the villa. The hum of the traffic and construction sites wove its way up the hillside. When I was surrounded by trees, it was so quiet that I could hear the birds chirping.
I returned to the terrace, passing the coffeehouse, and made my way back down the pergola. As the noon bells rang, I paused. All the bells from the different churches chimed together, with some beginning and ending while others continued for longer.
As the bells echoed to a whisper, I retraced my steps to the exit. With my heart filled with beauty and joy, I returned home.
Giardino delle Rose/Piazzale Michelangiolo — February 21, 2026
All the rose bushes have been trimmed in the Giardino delle Rose. I walked through the squishy grass, being careful not to slip on the muddy parts. A few rose bushes had leaves that had already sprouted, but the thorny branches were exposed.
I continued up the garden and passed behind the villa. A tall mimosa bush, whose fuzzy yellow flowers have multiplied since my last visit, caught my eye. I leaned over the fountain’s railing and peered into the water. Bright orange fish huddled at the back below the splashing water.
I exited the garden and walked below Piazzale Michelangiolo. I paused in front of the giglio, formed by white rocks assembled on the grass. People milled around the piazzale while others sat at the outdoor café, enjoying the panorama.
At Viale Michelangelo, I headed toward San Miniato al Monte, away from the piazzale. I looked through the trees along the empty sidewalk to glimpse the basilica. Unfortunately, the facciata is still hidden from view while being renovated.
Instead of stopping at Piazzale Michelangiolo, I continued down the tree-lined avenue toward the river. I have missed this winding path. I used to run up and down it a few times a week. Because of the traffic, I don’t run this way nowadays. I love the tall cypress and pine trees sprinkled around the grassy areas filled with wildflowers. Now there are tiny daisies and purple and white crocuses.
Once I arrived at Piazza Ferrucci, I crossed the street, hopped onto the sidewalk, and breathed in the sweet scent of the Arno. Even though I have done this many times, I still feel a wave of joy pass through me. My steps felt lighter on my way up Lungarno Cellini toward Ponte alle Grazie.
Giardino Bardini — March 5, 2026
Once I stepped onto the gravel path, my shoulders dropped. The crunching sound of my steps reminded me of previous visits to the garden. The chirping birds welcomed me to Giardino Bardini as I passed its tall trees, yellow jasmine flowers, and laurel bushes. After taking a few inhalations of the fresh air, my racing thoughts came to a halt.
I hiked up the garden through the lower area, where daisies garnished the manicured grass. Touches of color were sprinkled around the garden: red tulips along the scalinata, a plum tree’s white blossoms, bunches of yellow daffodils in the fruit orchard, and a single black and orange butterfly.
The sun warmed the air, giving me the impression that spring had begun. The glicine (wisteria) twining along the pergola had no leaves, but it had many fuzzy buds. In two months, these will garnish the stems with clusters of purple flowers. Along the gravel path, hydrangea leaves were sprouting like flowers.
I rushed past the old cypresses hovering around the Kaffeehaus to arrive at the olive grove. After zigzagging through the trimmed trees, I sat on the grass to immerse myself in nature while taking in a sliver of Florence framed by two olive trees.
As the noon bells rang, I videotaped the panorama while bees flew from flower to flower and blackbirds pecked at the soil. Once the sounds had hushed, two couples strode down the incline. I followed suit by gathering my things and heading for the exit. Before I walked below the pergola, I made a detour to the camellia bushes whose large, colored blossoms stretched open.
I retraced my steps to the garden entrance. I paused below the fruit orchard after I spotted the green and burgundy leaves on the rosebushes. My heart rejoiced: roses will soon blossom.
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