#115 In praise of the Sicilian Spring

Hello friend,

I hope your week has gone well. 

My week seems to have gone by fast, with work commitments, housework, and a public holiday in the middle of it all (the twenty-fifth of April, Liberation Day, or here in Italy).

The weather has been a little crazy this month, with some rain, some gloomy days, a few sunny ones, temperature drops and snow in different places on the peninsula. But today, looking outside my window from my writing desk here, I see that it seems to be a wonderfully pleasant sunny spring day, which is a relief.

This year, I have been struggling with a lot of seasonal depression and general malaise when it comes to finding the motivation for creative pursuits. My imposter syndrome has been particularly savage. But I've been pushing myself to show up, do it anyway, and make poor or average art just the same to keep up the habit of putting one word after another. Sometimes, if that's all you can muster, it's better than nothing.

I'm hoping the Springtime here in Sicily will help revive me as I come out of writing hibernation.

The first warm week in Spring in Sicily begins to melt away the winter, promising to revive the landscape. Below the winter grey, the plants wait to be resurrected; by Easter, the countryside is starting to be reborn. 

The seasons change gradually like eyes fluttering under closed lids just before you 

awake. In the mountains, the change is evident: under the naked trees, fresh, glowing meadows sprout into a carpet of luxurious grass. 

Even if the trees are still wrapped in wintertime, the pastures are decorated by daisies, violets, yellow grass flowers and blood-red poppies. Hundreds of blossoming flowers, grasses and aromas make the landscape re-emerge.

Branches become dotted with tiny unfurling buds which open out to form new leaves and flowers. Bare peach and plum trees are covered in newly sprouted pink and white flowers. 

The skeletons of hazelnut trees slowly grow furry green leaves, and during the winter months, they are like bare poles randomly heaped together. Winter becomes a forgotten nightmare, its greyness gradually transformed by the vibrant colours of Spring.

One of the first products of this time of year is wild asparagus, which shoots up between thorny blackberry plants, in cold, damp gullies or secluded places where it is hidden and keeps itself tender for those who search for it. 

There are two types of asparagus: a slim, tall, sweet variety widely dispersed in every area. And then a short, dark, slightly spindly and bitter asparagus which grows later in the season. 

The slimmer, sweeter variety of asparagus is the most sought-after, while the bitter type is more of an acquired taste.

Asparagus hunting is an art not unlike mushroom gathering as asparagus tends to nestle in amongst the new growth of Spring. Unlike mushrooms, which are at ground level, the asparagus spears sprout up high, poking out between bushes in lush gullies, which makes them easier to find. 

The standard uniform for asparagus hunters is heavy walking boots, tight jeans and shirts with long sleeves for protection from prickly plants, which must be negotiated during the hunt.

Searching for asparagus requires daredevil skills, determination, and the flexibility of a contortionist to avoid the thorny bushes that infest the most fertile spots and signal where the asparagus grows.

My first few excursions into the world of asparagus hunting are filled with my usual ineptitude. The first requirement of asparagus hunting is familiarity with dangerous mountain terrain, which seems so fragile that it creates a landslide at every step. 

I find only three spears of asparagus on my first outing, concentrating more on coordinating my footsteps rather than looking for the hidden vegetable. 

Apart from my fear, I have another disadvantage: nobody has explained how to look for asparagus. I stare into thorn bushes, hoping asparagus will enter my field of view. 

I later learned they are found near a particular type of plant that grows amongst the thornbushes; the plants I was avoiding were where I had to look. 

The thorny plant grows near the ground with a distinctive grey trunk and flat, spiky leaves. If you find this plant, you will see thin, healthy green asparagus 

spears are bursting with sweetness nearby.

The asparagus hunter will feel intense satisfaction while preparing this sweet 

vegetable, which can be cleaned and fried with olive oil to make an omelette. It is equally delicious, wrapped in thinly sliced cheese and prosciutto cotto, lightly oven-baked or made into quiches. 

These dishes are an elixir to the wintertime. Like the warmth of Spring, they create a reassurance that the chill is ending. The stoic winter trees are cushioned by the lushness of the germinating pastures as colour returns to the land. 

The wispy golden flowers of the mimosa tree are the first to blossom in March. It is the flower of the Festa delle Donne is on the eighth of March, when all Italians celebrate the miracle of women with bunches of golden mimosas given as gifts. 

The flowering trees dot the mountains beside the white blossoms of the fruit trees to become part of the wave of regrowth covering the summits, blending with shadows of greys and greens. 

The Spring seems like a truce that allows the winter to surrender and the cycle to begin again.

At the beginning of the Sicilian Spring, the rain is punctuated by days of the glorious sun. The change is ushered in by the scirocco, which blows pollen in the air as Aeolus, the God of the winds, is never far away in Sicily.

One day of sunshine becomes two days of mist and rain, which gives way to two days of sun and then one of rain. The juggling of the seasons confuses my body and makes me desperately desire summer. 

The smell of Spring is fresh and light and is invigorated by the warmth. A welcomed new beginning when life gives us trauma and difficulties to deal with, helping us to let go and live in the moment. Moving forward while acknowledging the past, not being a slave to it.

There is something to learn from the Sicilian lifestyle, which revives, heals and satisfies. 

It is a way of rekindling the soul. This makes me wonder if this is how life should be lived after all.

That's all from me in Sicily for now.

Regards

Rochelle

If you aren't a paid subscriber and want to keep reading after the paywall on the paid posts, update to a paid subscription. 

After subscribing, you will have access to all the posts from my travel memoir, Sicilian Descent, dedicated to my experiences living in Sicily. 

Plus, all the other previously published articles are in my newsletter archives.

Your support makes my work possible. 

If you want a subscription but can't afford one, please email me at rochelledb@substack.com, and I can add you to the comp list.

Sometimes, I talk about Sicily.

Other times, I talk about whatever is on my mind.

My writing always lightens my mental load, and I share some of my thoughts with you.

I hope you enjoy the randomness of A Load Off My Mind.