When we bought the house in Abruzzo, it wasn’t just the charm of the old stone walls or the caves and cellars beneath it that sold us—it was the view. From the rooftop terrace, we get an unbeatable panorama: endless vineyards rolling across the countryside, rugged mountains that change colors with the seasons, ancient coliseums peeking from the hills, and ruins so old even history forgot their names. It’s serene, quiet, and feels like a postcard come to life.
Most mornings, we enjoy breakfast up there, watching the sun stretch lazily across the valley. In summer, though, it turns into a sun-soaked frying pan. By mid-morning, you’re roasted, toasty, and scrambling for shade. So, we began the hunt for a gazebo—something light, elegant, and just right to span wall-to-wall without eating up our precious terrace space.
The Great Gazebo Hunt
After sifting through dozens of models online, we discovered an inconvenient truth: gazebos that aren’t symmetrical come with price tags that make you question life decisions. Was it the “chaotic beauty” tax? No idea. But symmetry or not, we finally found the one. Right size, right material, right price—a perfect trifecta. It was as if the universe had aligned.
Now, you’d think placing an online order for a gazebo would be easy. Click, confirm, done. But, oh no. Not this gazebo. Every time we ordered, the purchase would mysteriously cancel itself. Refunds arrived without explanation, like some cosmic prank.
The Mystery Unfolds
I was starting to think we were cursed. Maybe the universe was warning us: “Stick with umbrellas, you fools!” On a routine trip to town to grab some tools and supplies, I decided to ask the lady at the store about it. After about 20 minutes of cheerful banter (and me butchering Italian small talk), the mystery was solved:
Turns out, the warehouse kept canceling our order because the local store already had it in stock. But here’s the twist—the gazebo was so heavy it couldn’t fit in our car, so we couldn’t just load it up and drive it home. And so, with renewed determination, I purchased it one last time.
A Delivery Drama
The day of the big delivery arrived. As expected, it did not go smoothly. I received a call from the driver, who announced, with the subtle flair of a Greek tragedy, that the delivery van had broken down one town over. Skeptical but amused (because of course the van broke down), we jumped in the car to investigate.
Sure enough, we found the van stranded by the side of the road—but to our surprise, another van was already there, heroically shoving the first van uphill, like some bizarre mechanical tandem dance. We followed them all the way to our house, where they eventually dropped the packages neatly by the garage.
Now the fun part: getting the gazebo up three flights of stairs to the terrace. No delivery crew was going to do that for us. So, exhausted but victorious, we lugged every piece up to the rooftop.
At this point, we were running out of daylight and energy. We set the frame upright but didn’t have time to bolt it down or attach the canvas before leaving for home. Before we left, though, I had a brilliant idea: attach a camera to the frame to keep an eye on things remotely. Genius, right?
The Christmas Ornament Incident
Fast forward a month later. I was sitting at home, sipping coffee, and decided to check the camera feed from our rooftop terrace. But something was… off. Instead of the sweeping vineyard views, all I saw was the camera staring sadly at the ground.
Almost simultaneously, a text buzzed in from a neighbor. Attached was a photo of our gazebo hanging from our quince tree like an oversized Christmas ornament. Apparently, the winds that whistle through the ravine had picked it up, frame and all, and carried it right off the terrace. If we’d installed the canvas, it would’ve sailed off to the piazza by the castle—where it likely would’ve taken up residence as a new local landmark.
Ropes, Branches, and Lever Schemes
On our next visit, we had no choice but to launch Operation Gazebo Rescue. Armed with ropes, handsaws, and sheer stubbornness, we climbed into the tree, cutting branches and devising lever systems like ancient engineers to hoist the frame down. Picture two over-caffeinated people wrestling a gazebo out of a tree. Now add a dash of laughter, a few curse words, and a lot of questionable decisions. That’s the picture.
Once we finally extracted the gazebo and put it back up on the terrace. This time, we were taking no chances. We grabbed a saw, cut the legs down, and bolted the whole thing to the top of the walls. It was staying put, come hell or high water—or even that persistent Abruzzo wind.
A Happy Ending at Last
Now, with the gazebo finally in place (and securely anchored), we can enjoy the terrace as we originally intended: with wine in hand, a cool breeze on our faces, and shade that doesn’t threaten to take flight at a moment’s notice. It’s become our go-to spot for morning coffee, leisurely lunches, and sunset snacks.
Looking back, the whole ordeal feels like one of those slapstick comedy routines that just wouldn’t end. But hey, what’s a home restoration project without a few epic disasters along the way? In the end, the view from the terrace makes it all worth it—the vineyards, the mountains, the coliseums, the ruins—and now, a sturdy gazebo that stands proud and firmly rooted… even if it took a detour through a tree to get there.
And that, dear readers, is the tale of our gazebo—from canceled orders to a Christmas ornament and finally, a rooftop triumph.
Now, if you’ll excuse us, the wine is poured, the breeze is perfect, and the view? Well, it’s nothing short of spectacular. Cheers to life’s little misadventures!
