Friday, February 22, 2019
Tuesday, February 19, 2019
An appointment took me from San Zaccaria to Piazzale Roma on foot this morning before 9 am. I hadn't time for any scenic detours of the sort I would have liked to take on a morning like this--to see, for example, the church of the Miracoli in such fog--so these are just snaps from the quickest route between two points (with the exception of the two last images, actually taken after the appointment on the way home). There was no Vento di Garbin like yesterday--this fog settled in for hours today.
Monday, February 18, 2019
A more accurate title for this post would be "3 Views of the Effects of This Morning's Vento di Garbin," as the Vento di Garbin, I learned today, is the name of the damp chill wind, coming from the direction of Marghera and originating around Lago Garda, that blows fogs through Venice.
I was picking up our son from school this afternoon, and remarking upon the fact that it had been somewhat foggy just after 8 this morning (when all these three images were captured), then at around 11 a.m. had abruptly become so foggy that standing on one side of the Grand Canal you could hardly see the palazzi on the opposite bank, then shortly after lunch had become so clear-skied as to seem like the first day of spring, when the native Venetian I was talking to replied simply by way of explanation, "Vento di Garbin," and provided the description I've transcribed in the first paragraph above. Thus, giving a name to a mutability that had seemed to me almost beyond comprehension, and reminding me of the large lexicon native to the lagoon: not the least important of the ways in which Venetians have managed to make what some might have considered an inhospitable and nearly uninhabitable waste into their home.
Saturday, February 16, 2019
Friday, February 15, 2019
It wouldn't take much effort to properly identify the saint whom the sculpture above is actually supposed to represent, but I must admit I have no interest in that.
Instead, I admire the quiet efficiency with which that sword in the saint's right hand is likely to discourage all comers from disrupting the saint's focus on the book in his left.
Of course since most interruptions of our reading time these days are from our various electronic devices--or our own addiction to such devices--the saint has his work cut out for him. But, then, he would never had been beatified if he hadn't already shown some capacity for performing miraculous interventions.