Now that the holidays have passed and the Christmas lights have been removed from the streets, winter is finally settling in. The streets are quieter, fewer people are visiting the churches and museums, and terraces -- unless heated -- are empty. For the last few weeks, the sun has been dominating the sky, not allowing a single cloud to form. Recently, the sky has been a light blue with a misty layer of clouds staggering overhead. While the sun is hanging low in the sky at this time of the year, the colors appear muted and the shadows much darker.

When I looked out my windows this morning and saw the clear blue sky, I couldn’t wait to get outside. Because of the rain we’ve had the past couple of days, I knew I had to take advantage of the sun while it was out. I knew exactly where I would go as I headed out of my apartment. As I crossed Ponte alle Grazie, the chilly air tousled my hair. I paused for a moment to admire the light brown water rushing steadily over the weir and making its way to the Ponte Vecchio.  

It wasn’t until I reached Ponte alle Grazie that it began to sprinkle. I hoped that the weather report about only being cloudy and not raining until the afternoon would be true, but the ominous gray clouds predicted otherwise. As I raced through San Niccolò and up the incline to reach the Giardino delle Rose, I encountered many people with sturdy umbrellas and brightly colored parkas descending from Piazzale Michelangiolo. They didn’t dissuade me from continuing my hike up to the garden.

A sunset is a work of art that evolves. Not one moment exists without the others that came before it. On the first of October, I decided to not only watch the sunset form the golden hour to the blue hour, but also to post seven pictures of it during the week. So many times when I watch a sunset, I take many photos of it and only post one to represent it. But this sunset was so spectacular that I couldn’t pick just one.

After a day and a half of rain, I was excited to see the sun this morning. I rarely make plans but today I decided on visiting Giardino Bardini before lunch. I hiked up the stairs through the center of the lower garden where the scent of damp grass and wet leaves on the stone walkway welcomed me. I scampered up the incline eager to smell the roses growing up the stone wall below the fruit trees. The sun warmed me up as I stood in the shade where the cool air swirled around me. For months, I’ve been hiding from the sun, but now I welcomed it.

As the late morning church bells ring and echo through the narrow street bordering one side of my apartment, I am delighted to be home. A light rain falls from the sky, barely making a sound on the roof. Autumn is approaching, and the weather is both unpredictable and pleasurable. While I stand at my window, a few runners weave through traffic while a small group of people carrying umbrellas make their way toward the Ponte Vecchio. I admire them for not allowing the rain to hinder their plans. Before sitting back down on my couch, a pack of bicyclists catches my eye. They honk their horns, signaling to the cars to let them pass ahead of them.

I often refer to Florence as my beloved city, but she certainly doesn’t belong to me. Nor does she belong to anyone else or any group of people. She belongs to all of humanity. After having lived in Florence for almost 15 years, it pains me to see its decline. I don’t think it’s any one person’s fault, but definitely the fault of anyone who sees Florence as a commodity and not a treasure to be respected and honored. Florence has nurtured all of us and it’s time that we nurture her.

Whenever I walk through Giardino Bardini and Giardino delle Rose, down certain streets like via dell’Oriuolo or via dei Servi, in the middle of the Ponte Vecchio, or even along certain sections of the Arno, I’m always delighted when I spot the Duomo. I don’t make a point of searching for the Duomo, but when I see it, I can’t help but smile. Catching a glimpse of the Duomo, especially from afar, is like finding a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.

Initially I would go to the gardens in Florence to admire the flowers, the trees, and the view, but now I go to to immerse myself in nature and embrace the beauty around me. The other morning, I crossed Ponte alle Grazie, walked through San Niccolò, and hiked up the low hill to the Giardino delle Rose. The moment I walked through the opening in the stone wall, I took in a deep breath and held it for a few seconds. I pulled back my shoulders in an attempt to open my heart a bit more so I could be ready to receive an abundance of beauty.

Florence is my greatest inspiration, and yet at times my greatest distraction. I often want to lose myself in her embrace. I enjoy navigating the streets in the centro storico (historical city center), strolling around her gardens, visiting her museums and churches, standing on her many bridges, and seeing her at different times of the day and from different angles. When I’m outside, Florence often nudges me to go in different directions, whispers ideas to me, inspires me to look around more, and leads me to explore more of the city. It feels like she wants me to embrace more of her with my heart.

The moment my foot stepped onto the loose gravel path in Giardini Bardini, I exhaled and my entire body immediately relaxed. I smiled when the sun peeked over the stone wall and greeted me. With every breath, the sweet scent of the giardino instilled my body with peace and joy. All the time I spend in Florence’s gardens is not only precious to me, but also sacred. It’s a time for me to tap into Florence’s energy so I can release whatever needs to be released, become more present, and open myself to the love around me.

When I heard the 8am church bells ringing, I hopped out of bed and dashed outside to watch the sunrise. I planned on waking up earlier, but the fireworks went on for hours last night and I watched them from my window. It was the first year, I saw so many people with their own fireworks and fire crackers in the street. The celebration lasted for hours. Besides being startled awake around 3am by fireworks, I heard them even when I was outside this morning too.

A few days ago, I stood on Ponte Santa Trinita to watch the sunset. The muted colors in the sky did not inspire me to take many photos. I was contemplating whether or not to go home as the wind kept whipping past me, sending a chill throughout my body. I decided on staying a little longer only after wrapping my scarf a little tighter around my neck and hugging my body to keep warm. After a few moments, I noticed the colors in the sky gradually change. The sun burst through the sky, producing a bright orange, pink, and yellow streak on a strip of clouds overhead that was ultimately reflected on the water. Savoring the view, I felt an unexpected pang in my heart. It felt as if Florence had infused me with love like when the sun shines on my clothes and warmth permeates my body. That moment reminded me that Florence is always emanating love to us. Sometimes it takes something spectacular to emphasize that fact, but Florence transmits her love to us all day every day through every single street, church, building, bridge, tree, flower, museum, lamppost, square, and statue in the city.

For the past month, I’ve been waking up before the sun rises. It doesn’t matter how late I go to sleep, I still manage to be fully awake at around five every morning. My body and mind are rested so I just begin my daily routine. This morning, while I was writing, I was thinking about how much beauty is around me and how it’s only a matter of pausing to recognize it that will fill me up with even more joy. I stood in front of my open window and peered outside listening to the long pauses of silence in between the sounds of a motorino passing by or a car navigating the uneven stoned pavement below. I smiled when I heard the 7am bells echoing all around me. When I saw how the sky was turning a pale orange, I suddenly found myself pulling on some sweats, lacing up my running shoes, and donning a baseball cap. Within a few seconds, I was out the door.

I never knew how magical sunsets were until I moved to Florence. Within the last few years of my living in Florence, however, I have become fascinated with sunsets. Before that time, I would only watch the sunset if I happened to be outside or in a location that had a view of it. Nowadays, I enjoy watching how a sunset evolves: the sun sliding down the sky, the clouds transmuting, and the colors in the sky changing. Not only is a sunset a visual feast for my eyes, but also a significant experience for me in which I reflect on my day, release what needs to be released, give thanks, and set an intention for the next day.