A Snapshot of Spring in Northern Italy

Lisa Minucci

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2 min read

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Aug 20, 2023

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Like an unkempt bear blinking into the bright spring sun, I see in technicolor; amethyst crocus emerge in muddy fields, uneaten remains of back-breakingly planted tulips punctuate edges of meadows with mauves and reds, unseen hyacinth mysteriously perfume the air. Thousands of ladybugs infiltrate crevices in stone walls for a last flutter, their tiny red and white carcasses littering the wood floors, followed by a mop-up crew of ants hauling away the bodies.
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Fireworks of white pop against the monotony of the still un-budded winter grey as blossoming cherry trees dot hillsides next to naked deciduous trees. Yawning and stretching from their winter naps, apples and pears and peaches and plums, newly planted or anciently rooted, flower in colors so saturated as if to be mystical, holy, Disney-like. The birds take notice, rushing to and fro, building nests in stone walls or scattered bird boxes. Across from the kitchen door, in an empty spot in the old wall, a couple of grey wagtails sit on a nest, their movements my morning news.
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The dandelion astounds. Considered a weed in coiffed, suburban lawns, our long-abandoned fields are a haven for hundreds of types of wildflowers and the perennial dandelion. During the day, the fields glow electric yellow, vibrating with the hum of thousands of bees striking gold. But on gray afternoons and in the evening, dandelions fold themselves up (think reverse umbrella), a behavior known as nyctinasty (bottom petals grow quicker and longer in the cool darkness, forcing the flower closed). Notched leaves funnel moisture to the roots; difficult-to-remove, can’t-kill motherfuckers, which require hours, days to pull from a garden bed.
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Leave the flowers to the bees and give me the dandelion leaves! In early spring, they’re bittersweet and best raw. As season progresses, the leaves of this superfood (antioxidants, calcium, Vitamins A, K, and E) become large, meaty, and intensely bitter, screaming for a hot pan with lots of fried spring garlic and make-me-weep chilis. Topped with two of the neighbor’s gifted eggs, poached precisely two minutes, and slabs of grainy bread fried in dandelion drippings, it’s springtime on a plate.