In like a lion

Dandelion and coltsfoot, lions of March

I can’t quite decide whether March has come in like a lion or not. Last night it was blowing a gale, this morning it was brilliantly sunny, and this afternoon it’s raining.

Some years ago I tried to explain the proverb ‘In like a lion, out like a lamb’ to our Italian builder. I was greeted with a puzzled expression and a comment that yes, there are lambs in March.

There are lions as well, for sure.

I went today to have a look at where our immediate neighbour had been reinforcing the drainage channels so that the road doesn’t flood (very good of him – that bit of road is past his house and we’re the only ones that use it). The wide cut that comes down from the wood above is golden – literally golden – with coltsfoot.

On the way back I saw these two yellow manes side by side, and then further on – some celandines!

Taking advantage of Liberation Day

Softening the outline

Yesterday was Liberation Day in Italy and Chokri was available.

With the start of the warmer weather, our living room no longer needs to serve as a greenhouse so I decided to do a bit of moving around.

The planters, which have been out all year and harbour a motley population of strawberries, coltsfoot, Virginia stock and goldenrod, we took up to the shed and sat on blocks so that the leaves will soften the box-like outline of the side panel.

The plants which have been indoors – the cacti and the grapefruit tree – we added to other tubs which had been outside all along and arranged them in front of the stone wall in the courtyard, on a new bed of clean gravel to cover the general detritus from the oak tree.

Unfortunately today the rain carried with it fine sand from the Sahara Desert, a not infrequent occurrence in Italy, so that everything was stippled with a light powder.

I gave the grapefruit a squirt with clean water to cheer it up; I have a lot invested in that tree!

All in a row

Coltsfoot x 4

Coltsfoot bloom

Just one coltsfoot bloom, but taken with a lens which magnifies x 4!

I’m enjoying experimenting with Clive’s present, seeing detail I never would have otherwise.

A lot of the coltsfoot blooms look a bit ragged so I chose one that wasn’t too far open.

The cheerful little sun-like faces are appearing everywhere!

The Days of the Blackbird, and the Days of the Old Man and the Old Woman

Very cheerful, but not coltsfoot

I scrambled down a bank today to look at these yellow flowers, thinking they might be coltsfoot – a real sign of spring. They aren’t, of course.

The beautiful weather we’ve had over the last few days is not a good thing, though.

According to Italian tradition, the last 3 days of January are the Days of the Blackbird.

The name comes from a legend in which a pure white dove, staying through the winter to give comfort to a sick person, shelters in a chimney and turns black.

Weather statistics confirm that these are usually cold days, and if they’re particularly cold (it’s said) we get an early, beautiful spring.

If they’re warm, however, we get a late one. 😦

I mentioned this to Angela, our cleaning lady, who knew about it.

She also told me the Albanian legend of the Old Man and the Old Woman which explains why there are always 3 fine days in March and 3 bad ones in April.

When April arrived, this old couple badmouthed March as a terrible month. March got to hear of it and said: “April, brother, lend me 3 days.”

So April agreed to a swap and the 3 exchange days of harsh weather in April caught the old people out after they’d taken their sheep up the mountain.

They froze to death, along with their sheep.

Serve them right 😉 for grumbling about the weather!!

Coltsfoot

We’ve had 2 days of glorious, hot sunshine and now the weather has closed in again, with wind, rain and mist.

Coltsfoot

Just before the rain started, I prowled round the garden and found these lovely sun-like flowers – the first coltsfoot.

I always thought the name came from the fact that the flowers, when closed and hanging down, resemble the shaggy hoof of a young horse, but it seems I’m wrong: it’s to do with the shape of the leaves.

There’s no sign of the leaves at the moment; they come on after, when the flowers are over. Which gives rise to the other name which I rather like: ‘Son-before-the-father,’ referring to the unusual order of events.