Bello Giardino

About Bello Giardino

The first real snow of December falls on Italian Village at night, and it makes the place look older — brick faces, narrow alleys, the light off High Street going soft at the edges. Bello Giardino is out in it, plowing drives and lots, shoveling stoops and the sidewalks that run right up to a door, salting steps before anyone tries them in dress shoes. Short North blocks give a plow almost nothing to work with: cars parked both sides, tight alley mouths, nowhere obvious to stack what comes off the pavement. Solving that puzzle on every street, every storm, is the job. By morning the walks are bare and dark and nobody gives them a thought, which is exactly right.