In honor of the brief but glorious interlude of the blossoming of the lime trees (or linden, or tilia, or whatever you call them) — no visible blossoms, and in fact, no visible trees, but only soft, luxurious waves of their delicate perfume from somewhere nearby — I offer a view of the recent spring, as told by flowers. Summer will be here in two days, and many of the flowers are already moving on. But each one of them was part of a spring which was chilly, late, and cranky, and often very lovely.
Thank you for the wonderful pictures, Erla. One forgets how floriferous Venice is, in a thoroughly urban way. Like so much good stuff, the gardens tend to be hidden, except for those in the public parks. Much of the good stuff is tucked away: a visitor must watch for roses escaping over a wall (fat pink ones near Fondamente Venier), or look up to see pots of herbs and pelargoniums on second-story windowsills, or crane her neck to get a glimpse of a verdant altana. Or simply read Secret Gardens in Venice, by Tudy Sammartini. The cover shows the water gate of the garden belonging to the house where we rented a small vacation apartment for several years. Thank you especially for the picture of the world’s tastiest flowers, the little violet artichokes.
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Thank you for the wonderful pictures, Erla. One forgets how floriferous Venice is, in a thoroughly urban way. Like so much good stuff, the gardens tend to be hidden, except for those in the public parks. Much of the good stuff is tucked away: a visitor must watch for roses escaping over a wall (fat pink ones near Fondamente Venier), or look up to see pots of herbs and pelargoniums on second-story windowsills, or crane her neck to get a glimpse of a verdant altana. Or simply read Secret Gardens in Venice, by Tudy Sammartini. The cover shows the water gate of the garden belonging to the house where we rented a small vacation apartment for several years. Thank you especially for the picture of the world’s tastiest flowers, the little violet artichokes.