March marks the passage that imprisons winter in the limbo of memories, and nature explodes as if by magic. And she changes her dress, of a party dress. A saraband of colors sometimes envious of the rainbow, others of the snow recently left but dominating in the nearby mountains, invincible titans that stand out to stop the wind, eager to run on the world. But here, in the garden, there are no elements of brute force to tell the story, only blossoming shoots that sing of spring.
THE LAST HOUR OF THE EVENING There are sunsets made to bewitch the eye, when the day wants to be regretted and the night is in no hurry to arrive. Nature takes colors and paints surreal visions in the sky. Just leave the house, seize that moment and tear it away from the time that everything drags with it. .
