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Last Thursday, instead of returning home and getting straight to work after walking my daughter to school, I headed toward the Santa Trìnita bridge. I always enjoy the experience of crossing the river—that sensation of being suspended over the water—especially in the morning, when the day is just getting started.

My plan was to find a blue hydrangea plant (a ritual that happens around this time each year). The weekly Plant and Flower Market in Piazza della Repubblica offers the widest selection of choices if you are looking to fill a vase or brighten a windowsill or garden. While the static neo-Classic style buildings in this piazza are possibly the least inspiring in Florence, I find the square considerably more appealing when the plant sellers from all around the area come to set up their stands under the loggia each Thursday.

I walked under the loggia’s arches, scanning the temporary ‘gardens’ for a blue hydrangea. Even though blue is generally my least favorite color, I have always loved blue hydrangeas. The cabinets in my kitchen are blue which, strangely, I don’t mind much—but even less so when there’s a blue hydrangea sitting on the tiny windowsill each spring; it draws my eye the moment I walk through our entrance, and makes time spent in the kitchen much more pleasant.

I spotted a couple of pink hydrangeas and some with white blooms, but there were no blue ones in sight. I’d had trouble finding a blue hydrangea last year too, but something told me I just needed to bide my time this morning, so I continued on across the piazza to Caffè Gilli. It has always been my favorite of the many cafés in this square, and I find their cappuccino to be one of the best in the city. After drinking a cappuccino at the fancy marble and wooden bar (quicker and considerably less expensive than sitting at a table), I found a bench in the piazza and sat down to jot a few notes that had come to mind during the walk over.

My attention wandered to a group of students gathered around the Colonna dell’Abbondanza (an antique column topped with a statue of a woman symbolizing Abundance). No doubt the professor was explaining that this column marks the point where the Cardus Maximus and the Decumanus Maximus intersected in Roman times; the present-day piazza was in fact built over what used to be the Roman Forum. A few months ago I had come across my daughter’s fifth-grade class standing next to the column, listening to this very story. (I am always impressed that she is already being taught legends and stories about the artists and the city that I didn’t learn until studying for my Architecture degree. . .)

As I walked through the loggia again on my way back home, I optimistically kept my eyes open for a blue hydrangea. I had almost resigned myself to waiting another week, or more, when I noticed two blue hydrangeas nestled in a sea of orange- and red- and purple-flowered plants (which are my usual choices). I bought the more purply of the two and continued toward home.

The art store had opened by the time I crossed back over to my side of the river, so I stopped in to pick up some materials for a collage I’ve been working on. As I walked the last couple of blocks to my apartment, with the hydrangea in one hand and a bag from the art store dangling from the other, I reflected on how satisfying my little excursion had been. The walk had given me a chance to let my mind wander to places that it might not have in my studio—I’ve always appreciated how walking around Florence feels like a form of meditation to me. I had enjoyed some sunshine, an exquisite coffee and a visit to the art store: A perfect start to the day.

March 25, 2009

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