I’m thrilled I have a fairly large, travertine paved terrace connected to my new apartment in Florence. Before I even bought myself food to eat, I found myself buying plants. For people who know me, this is not a surprise!

I mean, camellias are my very favorite flower in the world and when I saw them for sale the first week I was here in my local grocery store, how could I resist?

Almost before I fed myself, I was out planting my two new camellia shrubs in the planter box that rings my terrazza. They had buds but no blossoms. I chose two pink blooming shrubs. The only other color on offer that day was white and since white makes me think of snow and I’ve spent so much of my life dealing with that sometimes pretty but always inconvenient white substance, I prefer flowers with vibrant hues. Not very long ago I was snowed-in at my cabin home on the lake in rural Illinois.

Supposedly the shrub I’ve shown in bloom above is called Nuccio’s Cameo. You never know for sure when you are buying plants that are labeled if the label is the right one. I’ve seen behind the scenes at plant wholesalers and farms, and it is easy for a mistake to be made when adding the label. In fact, I question whether the blooms above are Nuccio’s Cameo. The picture in the label looks a little more coral than pink and my blossoms are pure, unadulterated pink, so chissa’? For me it is unimportant, I love it no matter what you call it!

The second shrub I bought, seen below, was this variety, called Nuccio’s Pearl. Isn’t it interesting that the plant label is in English? I’d like it better if it were in Italian. This shrub has many buds and you can be sure I’ll be back with photos as soon as it blossoms. I wonder if it will have the paler center like the photo on the label or whether, like my first shrub, it will be all pink, glorious pink?

Here’s the backside of one of the passaporto delle piante. I love that designation for a label of this kind. You can see it at the bottom left. And here, at least, we have a little Italian. Grazie a dio. How am I ever gonna learn without seeing it??!!

I can feel it in the air on sunshiny days! La primavera!

And now I can see it in this beloved magnolia tree in my neighborhood! I’ve admired and photographed this particular tree for years! And now it’s my neighbor!

I’ll be doing an every day watch until it springs into blossom! I’d guess about a month. Let’s see if I’m correct!

And, also, happy birthday mom! You are truly missed. And your birthday mate too, Abraham Lincoln. But mostly you. Love always and forever. Isn’t it lovely that in this part of the world your birthday can be a beautiful spring day?

The cutest Fiat ever in the best color. I want it!

The Italians have a great sense of fun and humor; that no one can deny! It really helps an expat to “get it” if you can understand the language.

I needed to get some passport pix taken for the application for the permission to stay card required of everyone with my type of long-term Visa. I crossed #1 with the Chicago Italian Consulate, you know, the one that took 104 days to complete.

Now that I’m in the country, I have to submit another application for the card referenced in the first paragraph above.

So off I go to a kiosk in the center of town to get the photos. Outside the kiosk they advertise all the reasons why you might want to pay 2Euro to use their kiosk. I took my pictures and while I was waiting for them to develop, I perused the sign. It’s hilarious!

I supply a translation below in English for my readers. Read it and smile!

I like living in a place where you find poetry written by contemporary people plastered to exterior walls of the city. Heck, I even like the graffiti.

Translated into English it reads: The hot air fills with dry thunder. I miss a me that never existed.

I like living in a place where I can walk daily by a multitude of doors that, in any one specific instance, would bring you to a stop. They are so plentiful in Italy that really stopping and seeing them becomes difficult. They are just a part of the built environment, like the sound of church bells throughout the days and nights.

But look at the beauty of the wood and the ironwork on this fabulous door. It is magnificent in its own way and yet it is just one of many thousands in Florence alone.

And then double it!

I like living in a place where lemon trees in huge ceramic pots are wrapped during winter, allowing the plants to survive so that they can blossom and bloom and bear fruit to decorate the coming spring, summer and fall. Winter is a small sacrifice for a plant that glories in three seasons. This is just an average alleyway between several apartment and villas in the center of Florence.

I like living here. I’d even say I love living here. I’m so grateful to be here and the long wait only makes me appreciate it more!

And people in the US ask me why I want to live in Italy! Boh!

Voila! Eccoci!

Italians have a phrase that describes figuring out the ins and outs and the ways to get by in life. I love it!

 It is l’arte d’arrangiarsi and I practice it daily.

Wandering around my new neighborhood in Florence, I feel I am definitely in the right place at the right time! I won’t tell you where exactly, but I’m living a 5 minute walk from the world famous Arno river and in an area bounded by streets named the following:

Via Giotto

Via Orcagna

Via Cimabue

Via Arnolfo

Via Ghirlandaio

Via Fra Giovanni Angelico

Yep, I’m in the right place for an art historian

I’ve only been back in Florence for a couple of days, but when I saw this caution on my phone I had to laugh. Truer words could not be spoken! It’s true for Google maps and a lot of other things.

Heaven can wait! I found my paradise on earth, in Italy, specifically Florence!

Freshly pressed pomegranate juice. My favorite beverage on planet earth! In my favorite eatery in Florence, certainly in Tuscany, maybe in Italy!

As you can see by watching the barrista press the fruit, it takes a lot of physical strength to make this elixir of the gods!

I’m late in posting this crazy American painting from the Swope museum in Terre Haute. I have a special connection to this admittedly weird work of art and maybe someday, I’ll explain why.

Here’s to you, Saint Nicholas.