First, let me just say I’m sorry this post is not on the Boboli Gardens as I promised. However, I happened upon another lovely setting during one of my morning explorations that I felt deserved recognition. Since Florence offers so many beautiful parks and gardens, I decided to start a Garden Series. Each post in the series will highlight the beauty and uniqueness of every park and hopefully inspire others to visit.
I was on my way to the Piazzale Michelangelo, which offers a stunning panoramic view of the entire city. On my way up the hill, I spotted a small doorway in a stone wall with its iron gate propped open. For some reason, it caught my attention and, on closer examination, I discovered the entrance led to the Città di Firenze Giardino della Rose – Rose Garden. As I ascended the stone steps, I entered a peaceful scene. No crowds, just birds chirping and the sweet scent of roses wafting through the air. Later, I learned the garden hosts approximately 400 different types of roses. The garden also has a Japanese garden. This particular little paradise is on the Oltrarno section of Florence, which basically means crossing one of the numerous bridges spanning the Arno. It’s quite amazing to see the change of scenery that occurs from simply crossing a bridge. The Oltrarno section offers greenery and flowers and overall less noise.
I am only including two pictures below of the flowers themselves, as it was nearly impossible to capture the delicacy and resilience of the flowers, much less their wonderfully heady and sweet scent.
Throughout the garden, statues posed meditatively. A French sculpture, Jean-Michel Folon, designed all the art. I am not normally a fan of sculptures in gardens because, more often than not, they are abstract, strange designs that distract from the natural beauty surrounding them. However, these sculptures did not detract from the garden’s beauty, rather they subtly enhanced the overall ambiance.
Finally, although I usually avoid posting pictures of myself, I decided throughout this trip I would showcase one particular kind of shot: passagi (steps). This may sound odd, but I love photographing steps. I suppose it’s something about the stories each walkway would tell if it could talk. Each crack, scuff, and worn patch bares silent witness to life — work, play, love, sorrow — generation to generation.