Silent Sunday ...in Spring

Where is Spring?

If this is spring, why am I so cold? The few Easter days were wet, windy and cold and all the expected sunshine was out for just a handful of minutes just to make us yearn for spring and warmth even more. I know that talking about the weather (especially the bad weather!) is not only a British habit, but I cannot remember to have dwelled so much on the weather forecast before moving to Britain. Anyway, to console myself (and you as well, I hope), I’d like to post a wonderful picture of my favourite flower, the mimosa (which is actually a shrub and its official name is ‘acacia dealbata’).

I’m also posting my favourite Spring poem, one of the first poems I learnt in the English language.

Lines Written in Early Spring, William Wordsworth

I heard a thousand blended notes,

While in a grove I sate reclined,

In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts

Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

To her fair works did Nature link

The human soul that through me ran;

And much it grieved my heart to think

What man has made of man.

Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,

The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;

And ’tis my faith that every flower

Enjoys the air it breathes.

The birds around me hopped and played,

Their thoughts I cannot measure:--

But the least motion which they made

It seemed a thrill of pleasure.

The budding twigs spread out their fan,

To catch the breezy air;

And I must think, do all I can,

That there was pleasure there.

If this belief from heaven be sent,

If such be Nature’s holy plan,

Have I not reason to lament

What man has made of man?

And if in the meanwhile you encounter Spring, please send her up to Yorkshire!!!

Meet Ivo

Please meet Ivo, my friend’s Giovanna’s donkey. He lives in a comfy stable on the Monferrato hills in Italy and he’s free to roam the fields during the day. Ivo is my daughter’s favourite “pet”. He’s the loveliest and most intelligent animal ever! Last year my friend’s old mare, Ivo’s best friend, was very ill and she was kept in a separate stable but Ivo brayed and screamed so much that they had to move him next to her to keep her company. When then she died and my friend has to apply for a special authorisation to bury the mare in her property, Ivo spent days on her “grave” grieving and it took him ages to move from that spot.

He does not like being brushed and groomed. Just at the sight of a brush he starts braying and runs away. But he likes cuddles especially from children. Vicky can do anything to him, even ride on him, and he’s always happy. Although we see him only a couple of times a year he knows her very well. She just needs to shout his name and he runs to greet her wherever she is. We will see Ivo soon in a couple of weeks when we travel to Italy. And we can hardly wait.