Emerson's claim that "the earth laughs in flowers," might be over-quoted to the point of seeming trite, but I couldn't help but agree with him as I took my evening walk tonight.
Sicily had a dry fall, and was beginning to look a bit parched, until the rains came in November. It poured for days at a time, keeping Fiona and I cooped up in the house and turning the dense clay into the stickiest mud I've ever encountered. Walks over the hills became difficult, as my shoes would become so caked they would become as heavy as bricks.
But then, last week, the rains paused and the paths dried out. My first long hike revealed that the hills, as if joyous from with their recent drink, had exploded in flowers, even though the temperatures are in the 40s (in Fahrenheit) and we're approaching winter, not spring. What a marvelous place that blooms in December!
Sicily had a dry fall, and was beginning to look a bit parched, until the rains came in November. It poured for days at a time, keeping Fiona and I cooped up in the house and turning the dense clay into the stickiest mud I've ever encountered. Walks over the hills became difficult, as my shoes would become so caked they would become as heavy as bricks.
But then, last week, the rains paused and the paths dried out. My first long hike revealed that the hills, as if joyous from with their recent drink, had exploded in flowers, even though the temperatures are in the 40s (in Fahrenheit) and we're approaching winter, not spring. What a marvelous place that blooms in December!
I took my camera out today because I wanted to capture this small beauty below. I was walking home from Costanza's grandmother's house, up the road, on a misty day last week and I saw it and (quite literally) gasped. It's a delicate and ethereal, like a snowdrop or a bluebell, with a long bell-shaped flower in cream and royal purple. If you peer inside, there's a golden center, to attract bees no doubt. It's leaves contain hints of the same purple, framing the flower splendidly. I think of my mother's adage that "God is most spectacular of artists." I know it wasn't there before the rains, as I walk these paths almost every day. I came back to hunt for it with my camera, as I wanted to quickly capture it, in case it disappeared just as rapidly as it appeared, when the colder weather hits. I couldn't find its name, but the mystery makes it even more appealing.
On the theme of God and flowers, this quote from the author Alice Walker is certainly on point: "If you pass by the color purple in a field and don't notice it, God gets real pissed off." I imagine this is true. As I rounded the bend and started traveling uphill away from the main road, I spotted two more purple glories. One was in the same shade as the first, with lots of red hues, while the second was a deep iris.
Both were by their lonesome. Perhaps their friends will come along in spring, and these are just the scouts with adventurous spirits.
Both were by their lonesome. Perhaps their friends will come along in spring, and these are just the scouts with adventurous spirits.
Another thing that my mom says, in the same breath as complementing God's aesthetics, is to point out how he puts complementary colors together. So naturally, besides the bright purples are yellows. These are the hardiest of the wildflowers here, springing from the stone walls and populating every roadside.
On the top of the main hill overlooking Case Vecchie, there is a secret patch of one of my favorite flowers, that has just sprung up in the past few weeks as well. It's bright pink, with beautiful rounded leaves with white borders. Fiona told me its name: in English, it's called a sulla flower. I don't know it's name in Sicilian yet. In the spring, it will blanket every hill. This is just a taste, perfect for Christmas.
But admist all these bright colors, there is a lovely, white, wispy flower that has stolen my heart. It has beautiful shoots of feathery white stalks, which look wintery. And then, it has a main stalk, with hints of that red purple, and dainty white flowers.
Though it is tempting, I do not pick any of these flowers, as it seems criminal to do so. They are delicate and tender, and it seems more appropriate to simply visit them every day than to try to put them in a vase for my room. In the words of another poetic sage:
"I will be the gladdest thing under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
And not pick one."
- Edna St. Vincent Millay
"I will be the gladdest thing under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
And not pick one."
- Edna St. Vincent Millay