It seems Spring has also arrived in Italy.
My father-in-law has told us twice, first my husband, and then me, about the tiny daffodils that have come up again on their balcony, four years after I first gave them as a gift.
Their delicate yellow faces are always a surprise and every year we have to google the word daffodil to find its italian sister: giunchiglia or trombone. For some reason we never remember it.
Although I do remember the day I found them, on display at Carrefour, far too expensive, but irresistible to a foreign girl far away from home and missing her English spring.
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