When asked what’s my favorite season, I’ve always had a loyal response. Now, however, I’ve finally realized that the question is more idiosyncratic than I thought. It largely depends on where.

My favorite season is fall (or autumn as I call it here since no one would understand the strange American way to describe the transition season). The thing that made me truly homesick when I first came to Italy was the lack of autumn during the autumn. The closest thing to the vibrant reds, rust oranges, faded greens, yellows and browns that the trees wear in Ohio during the fall was the warm yellow paint of the Florentine buildings or the sunset over the Arno. It was lovely, but it wasn’t enough.

What’s more, my Italian autumn didn’t offer the crisp dry air that punctuates Ohio autumns. In fact, it was totally different.

I spent that entire season airing out my boots, shoving newspaper into the toes in the vain attempt to dry them before class the next day. It rained nearly every day for two months, something I later learned to expect. Last autumn I spent the season riding my bike to my new job as a teacher, boots on, hood up, precariously holding my umbrella above me with one hand, clutching the handlebars and brakes in the other.

So after years and years of declaring autumn my favorite season, I’m here to admit that it’s changed. In the Midwest and East of the United States my favorite season is fall, but in Italy it’s all about the spring.

Spring in Italy means the rain has stopped. It means that somehow, seemingly against all odds, the ground opens up and the gray, depressing cityscape turns into a vibrant living garden. Azaleas bloom across lake islands in Lago Maggiore or Bellaggio. Magnolias you never noticed before explode in color and perfume. Balconies are covered in the hanging purple wisteria flowers.

Luckily for me, our garden is no different. Worked on by generations, (admittedly not by me!) it’s been lovingly shaped and coaxed into the garden oasis that it is today, a spectacular lawn that, though beautiful year round, finds its climax in spring.





The little white margaritas are my favorite, they blanket the lawn








Yes, that is an American flag in the background haha


“Sweet spring is your
time is my time is our

–e.e. cummings

Now let’s #GetOutside!

Written by ginamussio


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