Rainy Afternoon

A decisive choice

Balcony Impressions

This year's crop

This year's crop. Not that much, after all. What remains in my hands after the sad story I've just experienced is a lot of regrets and a handful for seeds to plant. I can only wish they will bring me new fresh energy and motivation.  

Ten minutes of sunshine

The "window" of sunshine has been very short, this morning. Enough to sit a while on the bench placed on my balcony, soak my shoulders with some warmth and stare at the new flowers sprouting from the pots. And then again lots of clouds and cold. A weird, crazy spring, so far.

Still Life

Yellow

Just Spotted

A green feather on the wall.

The Aloe

Notwithstanding its menacing and defensive aspect, the aloe that I took as a small bud more than ten years ago coming back from Ischia island has grown silently and peacefully in a corner of my balcony despite the heat of the dry summers and the ice of the long winter seasons. It's the only plant that doesn't suffer our absence. Moving the forefinger on the edges and false thorns of its surface provides a unique and pleasant tactile sensation. It's green nuances are so vivid that it nearly looks like it was made of plastic or a marzipan cake that are traditionally made in Sicily.

I have been tempted several times to move it into a new and nicer vase and put it somewhere else, in the lading of our apartment or directly in our living room. I haven't done it as I'm sure it would not love the change and would die in short time. For a wild plant as the aloe there's nothing comparable to open air and to the company of several others green species, starting from the moss that grew into its vase.

A colorful invasion at the door

One after one, every pot on my balcony is starting to blossom. I think I have taken thousands of pictures like this. Still, when a small masterpiece of nature peeps through the foliage the instinct to take my camera is hard to keep quiet. Behind the archival usefulness (it's nice to leaf thru our pictures folders and see how our small "urban garden" has changed with time) I have always the hope that the new pictures I take could be better than those I took in the previous years.

In the coming days roses, lilies and some more samples will bloom. I'll take care to post some pictures of them.

Rebirth

Every little plant in my "garden" is waking up again.

The last of the "Peppers"

This poor lad has been the last of this year's crop. It will never be ready to eat. Winter has come all at once and the stalk where it's hanging from is now naked. This habanero is destined to keep the yellowish tan till it falls down on the ground. Paradoxically, chances are that it will be the parent of next season's seeds.

The Agave

Weirdness of the "Tall Town". The agave is missing on the walls of the Reinassance masterpiece, where millions of people come every year to visit its garden and fountains but it's thriving on the walls of the old "Osteria", where no has walked in for years.

Synchronicity

At least this year my balcony is in phase with the woods.

A sample

Flowers

The B&W elaboration of all flowers samples I took last summer when I was in Ischia has just begun. I think sooner or later I'll have to put on stage a photobook that collects them all.