Grace Park, in downtown Providence, with Victoria and Billy at right. (Photo from Lost Providence)

A sonnet would be more romantic, perhaps, but let me try combining, just for today, my blog, Architecture Here and There, and my dear wife, Victoria. Today marks our tenth anniversary. This evening I will be taking her out to Barrington Books, in Garden City, where I will read a chapter from my book, Lost Providence, take questions and sign books in an event at 6:30 p.m.

I hope this blog will not have its FCC license pulled if I declare that the architecture of Victoria, an undeniable sweetie, is remarkable indeed.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ !

In the photo atop this blog post she sits on a bench next to Billy, 8, in Grace Park outside of the Hotel Providence, downtown.

Yesterday, on GoLocalProv.com, in an interview with Kate Nagle, I was puffing my book Lost Providence and, in answer to Kate’s question about my favorite lost building, I referred to the Hoppin House as being great because it “has breasts.” Its façade has two gentle bulges, matched by yet another set in the porch balustrade, and finally graced by yet another pair in the railing in front of the house. I would not hesitate to say that the architecture of Victoria is even lovelier than the architecture of the Hoppin House.

My effort to combine work with pleasure (my blog with my wife) has an honorable precedent in the imaginary drawings of A.G. Rizzoli, a draftsman for an architectural firm in San Francisco. Nine years after his death in 1990, hundreds of his meticulous sketches of buildings were found in the family’s garage. Many were devoted to his mother, including one called “Mother Symbolically Recaptured” that I ran atop a column I wrote (“Sketching the mother of all moms“) after my mother, Mona, died in 2004.

Since I cannot draw, I dedicate this blog post to my wife of ten years. (Don’t worry, readers, I got her a couple of nice gifties, too.)

The Hoppin House, built in 1816 and razed in 1875. (Providence Public Library)

“Mother Symbolically Recaptured,” by A.G. Rizzoli. (Pomegranite Communications)