When most people think of Florence, they think of Medieval buildings and Renaissance paintings and sculpture. But, Florence is a living, breathing city and I love finding traces of subsequent centuries throughout the city I am lucky enough to live in.
In the park that is called a horticultural garden that is a couple of blocks from my apartment is this gorgeous 19th century glass house. They were all the rage in the 19th century, especially notable in the UK. But, Italy has some too, as you can see here.
Look at how pretty it looks at dusk on a foggy evening!
The views from the hillside belvedere behind the glass house provides amazing views of the city. See the Duomo’s dome off in the distance, and Giotto’s bellower? Lovely.
And, not 3 blocks away from this public garden, on the major street leading out of Florence from here, on the Via Bolognese, is another period glass house that I adore. This one belongs to a private home. I would have loved being the owner of this 19th century glass house had I been a Florentine of the 19th century. What a luxury!
Lorenzo Monaco was one of the most talented quattrocento painters and I adore this altarpiece that is now in the Uffizi collection. What a wonderful herald of this joyful season!
For me, living in this Mediterranean climate is living in a wonderland. I love the many trees and shrubs that grow in this setting. One of the wonders of the fall are persimmon trees. Once they have lost their leaves, they look like gigantic Christmas trees decorated with large orange globes. I love them.
On a recent passeggiata, I came across this offering. Someone is sharing their persimmon bounty with passers by. They promise that the fruit are 999% pesticide free. With a promise like that, I helped myself to a couple. I don’t actually like the taste of persimmons, but I love their size, shape and color! Fall treasures!
Living in the Mediterranean climate is a horticultural wonderland for me.
I love the way these orange balls look against these blue Tuscan skies.
On my recent passeggiata, I noticed someone was sharing their persimmon bounty with us passersby. As the sign says, they are guaranteed to be 999% pesticide free! I helped myself to a couple.
Never in a million years did I think I would always remember Thanksgiving of 2020. Not because Covid changed everything. But, because I had a small but important breakthrough in my Italian studies, and because I had a mishap.
First, the good news: I am still struggling with my language study. Anybody who thinks learning a foreign language is easy is somebody I will never understand. But, I’ve been working extra hard for the past few months and am pleased with my slow but steady improvement. Only I can measure this progress, it probably wouldn’t even be apparent to a teacher.
But, yesterday I had the pleasure of meeting in this glorious location on the outskirts of Florence with a new Italian friend. She is a Florentine and, did you know, Florentines have their own special dialect? I had heard about it and some people have demonstrated it to me over the months, but I had never “caught” it heretofore.
This is the place Maria I sat and chatted. Do you see the dome of the cathedral?
But, yesterday, while Maria was speaking, I heard her say “po ho” instead of “poco” and I knew something had clicked in my brain. I asked her to repeat it and she caught herself (she is trying to help me with my Italian and I’m trying to help her with her English) and she said “poco.” We laughed and she told me she could and does say “po ho” in the typical Florentine way (they substitute an H for the C in words like this) throughout Tuscany and is always understood. She said if she speaks that way outside of Tuscany, nobody would understand her.
A Florentine would say “Ho ca Ho la” for Coca Cola.
But, I caught it! Maybe my ear, which is not finely tuned I am sad to say, is finally catching on, along with my brain.
Secondo: the mishap or l’incidente: I was in such a rush to meet Maria and grabbing my mask, my bag with my secateurs (because on my way to meet Maria I was going for a long walk in the hills and planned to cut some colorful foliage to bring home), my trash to take to the street receptacle, that I failed to grab my apartment and building keys. And, of course I did not realize this until I had passed a very enjoyable afternoon walking and talking with my Florentine friend. When I arrived home, about sunset, I realized my mistake.
Long story short, I learned some new things about living in Italy yesterday as well. I have lived in my current apartment for 2.8 years and fortunately have never forgotten my keys before. In fact, it is an obsession, because I don’t want to be caught with needing to figure out how to get into my apartment or asking for help. I am fiercely independent. To a fault, I would say.
But, despite all this, in the back of my mind I always assumed that Adolfo, my genial portiere (porter who lives on site), would have a set of keys for all of the apartments in my building. But, it turns out he does not. I was able to reach my lovely landlord and she was able to come let me in, but not for a couple of hours and so Adolfo buzzed me into the lobby and there I sat for 2 hours on Thanksgiving, waiting to get into my apartment to meet on Zoom with another friend named Maria (she is of Italian heritage but is American and is actually named Marie instead of Maria in the English way) in America and then later join another small dinner here in Florence.
All’s well that ends well and it was a well spent Thanksgiving that I will never forget.
This is my new book. Fortunately, it arrived in yesterday’s mail!
PS: In my current motivated language study, I’m reading many delightful books for children in Italian. Coincidentally, a book I had ordered arrived yesterday and was waiting for me in the lobby. I was able to open it and sit reading it during my 2 hour wait. Time pretty well spent. It was funny how many fellow palazzo residents came and went during this time and although I don’t know most of them, because the way the building is set up I never see anyone except my next door neighbors, most of them said “salve” or “buona serra” or “arrivederci” as they left the building to walk their dogs or whatever. They must have wondered about the Americana sitting in the lobby in her coat and scarf, reading a paperback book. This is not the usual happening in this building. But only one person asked me what was going on. Fortunately, I could tell her in my new Italian ability. Tee hee.
On certain days of the year, when we aren’t dealing with Covid, Santa Maria Novella moves some of the Baroque framed paintings away from the nave walls to reveal, for a day, the quattrocentro frescoes which lie beneath. I was fortunate enough to be there one day last August and here are the amazing things I saw. It was wonderful!
get back, lauretta! 
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