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!
Both were by their lonesome. Perhaps their friends will come along in spring, and these are just the scouts with adventurous spirits.
"I will be the gladdest thing under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
And not pick one."
- Edna St. Vincent Millay