(Venice, Italy) There was a deluge on the morning of April 25, 2023, the Feast of Saint Mark, Venice's patron saint. Italy is in the midst of a severe drought, so it was like a gift from the heavens -- just not on that day.

That day, at 12:30 PM, the Venetian artist Elena Tagliapietra and the Venetian author, Alberto Toso Fei were planning to recreate a Bocolo Umano or "Human Rose Blossom" in Piazza San Marco, the same way we had done nine years ago, back on April 25, 2014.

April 25 is a national holiday for all of Italy, Liberation Day, to commemorate the end of the Fascist regime and Nazi occupation. But in Venice, long before there was a united Italy, during the Festa del Bocolo, men gave a single rose to the women they love. Behind that tradition is a wonderful Venetian legend.

I stopped by Rialto to see my friend, the mask-maker Sergio Boldrin, on my way to Piazza San Marco. I was wearing a short red dress because it was the only red outfit I had, and I was soaked. I stood dripping in the doorway of his small shop.

Cat Bauer in red for Festa del Bocolo 2023, Venice

Sergio laughed: "What are you doing, Red One?" Sergio calls me "Red One" even when I'm not dressed in red because of the color of my hair. But today it seemed especially appropriate.

Me: "Remember when we made the human rose in Piazza San Marco back in 2014? This year we're doing it again."

Sergio peered out at the downpour. There were just a few hardy souls on the street. "How many people do you need for the rose?"

Me: "I think about a thousand."

Sergio: "You can always have a spritz."

I was running late. When I finally made it to Piazza San Marco, there was nobody in the square. I checked the group's Facebook page to make sure it was still happening. "WE WILL ALSO DO IT IN THE RAIN!! THE COLORS WILL BE CREATED BY THE FREE UMBRELLAS." I did not see a mass of red or green umbrellas anywhere.

Bewildered, I wandered through the crowd packed inside the Procuratie Vecchie, sheltering from the storm. I got about halfway through when I realized that the crowd was divided into about 20 groups clustered around a person holding a number. I was in Group 2, which was the last one to the end.

I greeted my comrades. They were young and old, males and females; people who lived in town and people who had sloshed in from the mainland, despite the weather. My name was checked off the list. I was handed a red umbrella. Yay!

Then I saw Alberto Toso Fei walking along the crowd with a megaphone, telling the story of  Festa del Bocolo, which goes something like this:

A noblewoman, Maria Partecipazio, and a troubadour, Tancredi, fell in love. But Maria was the daughter of the Doge, and marriage to a troubadour would never have her father's approval. In order to overcome the social class differences, Tancredi went off to war to find glory and raise himself to the higher social level of his beloved. 

He served as a valiant soldier under Charles the Great in the war against the Moors, but, unfortunately, was mortally wounded. As he lay dying in a pool of blood by a bed of red roses, he plucked a rose for Maria Partecipazio and asked his comrade, Orlando, to take the blossom to his beloved Lady in Venice, stained with his blood. 

Orlando kept his vow, and arrived in Venice the day before the Feast of Saint Mark. He gave the rose to Maria Partecipazio as the last message of love from the dying Tancredi.

The next morning, Maria Partecipazio herself was found dead, the red rose lying on her heart, finally joined with her beloved in the celestial world. Since that time, Venetian lovers use the symbol of the red rose blossom to pledge their love.