As I noted in my last post, the poet/philosopher/Viking raider/diamond cutter/prima ballerina assoluta (who knows if it’s a woman?) “Anon” mentioned the three sublime elements that have remained to us from paradise. The second is flowers.
If anyone were to imagine that Venice is made only of stone, brick and water, I’d like to correct that notion. Here is a very limited assortment of flowers I’ve seen in or near Venice over the years and seasons. Does it seem like a lot? I could have done more. They say that when “War and Peace” was on the verge of being published, Tolstoy suddenly cried out “A yacht race! I left out a yacht race!” In this case, I have left out the magnolia and plum and pomegranate and daisies…. I had to stop somewhere, as Tolstoy must also have regretfully realized.
Winter flowers sounds like a contradiction (experts know it’s not) but I was astonished one freezing winter day years ago to find myself walking through a cloud of perfume. That was my introduction to what Lino calls calycanthus — I discovered later that it is “Chinese winter bloom” (Chimonanthus praecox). This is not that particular tree; the one I discovered was almost completely hidden behind a different wall which only made the moment even more magical. If the fragrance wafts past you some frigid night, it verges on celestial. I read that this essential oil is used in some “quality perfumes.” It’s sheer quality all by itself.It begins to bloom in December. Break off a little low-hanging branch, and in the few brief days before the flowers start dropping off your house will smell divine. No, I’m not exaggerating.Lino knew a few places where the shrubs were easy to reach, so he would bring me a few twigs.
The violets make their first appearance lurking among the spring shadows.Then everybody wants to get into the act.Late February and early March bring mimosa.
Moving toward Easter (which also moves every year, try to keep up), the peach blossoms arrive, often from Sicily, or even from somewhere in the Veneto. It must depend on the weather. I only see them at the Rialto market.
Then the wisteria steps into the spotlight. It seems to be everywhere but I count on seeing it in the little campo behind us.The Ristorante in Paradiso in the Giardini facing the lagoon never disappoints where its wisteria is concerned. I don’t know about the food.
On April 25, San Marco’s feast day, Venetian men go for the rose — the “bocolo” of a rose — and the longer the stem and redder the petals, the better. Your lady-love has to have one. Or else. One year we decided to take mine for a ride.An abandoned bocolo does not bode well,either for the couple or for the rose.Toward the end of April the forsythia takes center stage. This is an approximate date, of course; it comes out when it’s good and ready to come out.May: Poppies on Sant’ Erasmo.Poppies are everywhere for too brief a time.Yes, artichokes are flowers. These are a few castraure (cahs-trah-OO-reh) of the renowned Violet Artichoke of Sant’ Erasmo. Each is the very first bud that appears at the apex of the artichoke plant. People await their appearance sometime between April and May as if a special esoteric treasure is about to be bestowed. Because they now have reached a sort of cult status, it’s truly amazing how many castraure somehow show up in the market. After all, just one per plant … There are various recipes for them, of course, but considering that their primary attribute is their tender youth, they are especially delectable raw, sliced extremely fine and enhanced simply by salt, pepper and the best olive oil you can find. The supply only lasts a mere two weeks or so, then the botoi (BOH-toe-ee) move in.Botoi are the flowers that bloom after the castraura has been removed. They are more flavorful, but they have no PR agent to rhapsodize about them so nobody makes a fuss about botoi the way they do about castraure. Also, there are many more botoi than there are castraure, so they don’t seem quite so exceptional. More than one expert prefers them to castraure, but to each his own mania.To review: The upper crate contains castraure, the lower crate has botoi. They are both delectable.Before we move on, let me alert you to the fact that Italy is rife with artichokes. You will find these on sale in Venice: Castraure from Tuscany. At a very reasonable price, too — another hint that you might have left the Sant’ Erasmo sector. (Castraure from that island, at least the first few days, can cost as much as 2 euros each.)Accompanied by their botoi, noted as coming from Livorno (Tuscany). They actually look just the same to me. But the whole point of this interval is that artichokes are flowers.Tamarisks love salty soil. Besides being lovely they are also very useful; on Sant’ Erasmo they serve as windbreaks around the asparagus and peas and other spring treats.
At just the right moment, the artichokes, poppies and tamarisks (here they are not pink, as you see) are all out together. Tamarisks also manage a faint perfume, which is charming.Going to be figs when they grow up. I put this picture in just because I think it’s so cool, but then my rudimentary research reveals that figs have flowers, but are to be found inside the fruit. That seems grotesque but it obviously works so never mind.This luxuriant sweep of shrubbery at the Giardini is Pittosporum tobira. My source says it is “native to eastern Asia and is widely grown as an ornamental plant in Mediterranean climates. The plant produces small, inconspicuous greenish or whitish flowers that grow in clusters in the leaf axils.” Until late May its only virtue is being green. But then the flowers begin to open up and become conspicuous. My source says the flowers are known for their “intense fragrance,” and that is an understatement.Aren’t those little buds lovely? And their first aroma, after the long winter, makes you want to open your arms and invite them to your home and bring them cool drinks and expensive snacks and ask them if they’re happy and insist that they tell you if they need or want anything. That’s the first week or so. But like “The Man Who Came to Dinner,” they settle in, become obnoxiously comfortable, and decide they don’t ever want to leave. As the late spring days pass, they lose their early charm and frankly they don’t care.Time passes, and as the buds mature in the sunshine the fragrance becomes denser, heavier, more aggressive. The perfume that once was so ingratiating begins to evolve into a sort of murmured menace. No longer delightful, the odor verges on nauseating. And that’s not the point at which they fade and die. No, they remain at that stage until they get bored revolting you, and then they stay for a while longer. This extraordinary plant travels the world under various aliases: Australian laurel, Japanese pittosporum, mock orange and Japanese cheesewood. Call it what you will, let it pass by. Turn off the porch light, lower the blinds, pretend you’ve had to leave unexpectedly for Kiribati. Or at least stop using the Giardini vaporetto stop and just walk to wherever you’re going.Roses in the Giardini.Honeysuckle (Lonicera tatarica) at Sant’ Elena.
Oleander (Nerium oleander). I hope they leave it alone, it’s perfect just the way it is.Limonium narbonense comes out in mid-August. Various relatives are called sea-lavender, statice, caspia, or marsh-rosemary.
Late summer brings out the Erica; I do not know which of the hundreds of species this one may be. These are generally called “heath” or “heather.” That’s all I can tell you, apart from the fact that they are protected and you really should resist taking any home.This flowering shrub on the Vignole may be fleeceflower, or it may be silver lace vine. I hope some knowledgeable reader will settle this for me. Meanwhile it’s beautiful, and it lasts for weeks. Too bad it’s probably invasive, but we all know people like that. You take the fluffy with the bad.
