Friday, March 6, 2009

Loveliest of trees...

I saw mimosa today, prominently, all over town. This means two things here:
1) spring is just around the corner, and
2) the Festa della Donna is tomorrow.

The first appearance of mimosa bursting up over walls or climbing beside windows, is reason enough to celebrate. It is the true sign that spring is on the doorstep.

The Festa della Donna, otherwise known as International Women's Day (which is not celebrated in the U.S.) is when the men salute the significant women in their world, traditionally giving them a sprig of mimosa. For a day the city turns yellow.


Beautiful blonde,
radiant as the sun
delicate as a baby's finger,
and sweet as the Venetian dusk,
your breath is truly Spring,
as lovely as a song.

That was 2006. I wrote it in Italian for my Italian class; it is of the "kinder, gentler" tone. The following year was more like this year:

It's cold and nasty
and grey; there is
fog in the air
and the paving
stones are wet.
But the mimosa
doesn't care.
It blooms crazy
yellow over the
garden wall.

I am the mimosa.

The title of this entry is a poem by A. E. Houseman; if you don't already know it, you should (if only for your cultural literacy).

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