One of the things I love best about living in Italy is
watching it come alive each spring with a fantastic display of vibrant flowers. That first year, a whole new world
opened up before me dazzling me in the process, and still does every year. Flowers we never see in the UK because it’s
too cold for them to flourish, grow here in profusion, the colours so bright you
almost need sunglasses to look at them.
Starting with the sunny yellow mimosa (accompanied by heavenly scent)
the spring follows through with cascades of pale wisteria, perfumed jasmine
and then exotic hibiscus until summer arrives with the many-coloured oleander. I don’t know
why those last two remind me of a song, our sweet but clueless music teacher at
school used to sing… “On wings of song”
(the music is by Mendelssohn, lyrics here), but they always do.
Vito is less romantically inclined towards them. He simply refers to oleander as “street
trees” because the local councils in Italy make good use of these plants on every roadside
and central section of busy highways, and refuses point blank to let me buy any
for our garden. Hibiscus I gave up buying, as I appear to have the kiss of
death where they are concerned L
Bougainvillea though we were both agreed on. In fact I think they are universally loved. I always remember how my aunt, a keen gardener, reacted when I first told her about our empty garden walls. “Bougainvillea, bougainvillea, bougainvillea”,
she sighed. Surprisingly they took really well, in particular this one which we call “The Triffid”.
That might seem a bit excessive, but one year it did fall across the front door and I couldn’t get out! But I forgave it. It’s so just so beautiful.
Or as a friend of mine wrote back to me when I sent her
these photos this morning, “lovely, lovely, lovely”.
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