Pentecosta

Twenty-one degrees at the morning checkpoint, signalling the arrival of summer, at least in my book.

It's Pentecosta in Cannobio, and we are awash with visitors from Germany, Switzerland, France and the UK. The Cannobio tourism machine has flowed into action, guest houses newly painted, campground lawns newly cut and all casse manned and operational. 

Cannobio is now a city of flowers. Flowers tumbling down from balconies, overflowing planters and gaily fluttering in the municipal flower beds: azaleas, geraniums, delphiniums... And on the roof of San Vittore, the statues have shrugged off their lichen cloaks and are almost visibly warming their stone bones in the healing sunshine.

The lake road is a continuous stream of holiday traffic, and we residents breathe deeply and try our best to be Zen about driving at 20km/h, stopping at every curve, behind an RV labelled on the rear in big red letters RAPIDO.

Back in and around Carmine, the false acacia are in bloom, white and delicate laburnum-like cascades of flowers. A close runner-up to the jasmine, the false acacia grows fast like a weed in untended gardens and bosco alike. Here called rubinia, the hundreds of trees cloak us in a heavy honey-and-vanilla scent. Open the windows on the north side of the house, and soon the bedclothes are enchanted with it. Delicious! 

My garden, once a humble campo, has suddenly this year responded to my planting and nurturing over the past few years, and is now lush with all sorts of flowers, shrubs, fruits and vegetables. All the roses - pink, red, yellow and white, climbers, standards, bushes and creepers - have woken up and are proudly blooming. And yesterday, the children emerged from the far end of the garden, faces aglow with the wonder of nature and little hands full of newly-ripe strawberries. 

These Carmine scenes make me happy and help me along in the Zen department...



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