I’m flying out of Italy the day the smell of the blossoming lindens has finally started being obvious, after at least a week of tentative promises. I found out last year that they blossom in a southward wave, with those around the train station becoming quite violent when those around my parents’ place, three kilometers away and slightly more elevated, are just starting to pop. Soon they’ll be battling the smell of star jasmines—which are the stars of May—until, in a couple of weeks, it’ll be lindens everywhere, pungent and rotting in the air, covering everything in golden dust. For me that’s the smell of school exams, the beginning of the summer, and makes flying out particularly bittersweet.
But this was a fun few weeks, with the wedding of one of my best friends, yet another F1 Grand Prix (while I hate it as a thing, it’s still a cool, whole-town party that’s always fun to experience), and our visit to Uliassi during a weekend in Senigallia.
My parents’ formerly decrepit seaside place is almost ready to be used after over a year’s worth of renovations. We went yesterday to do some cleanup, use the kitchen for the first time, and enjoy the garden on a day with shockingly few mosquitoes. While I wish I could be here to enjoy it during the summer, I’m very okay with not being bled dry.
Also, I saw my pink oleander blossom for the first time in a decade, obviously happy with its current placement. If only I believed in these kinds of signs, I’d take it as a great one.