Mixed days of sun and rain mean that every bit of green in Rome has burst: parks, piazze, hedges, ruins and the banks of the river, obviously, but also verges, circles of soil around the base of trees and traffic lights, kerbs and cracks in the pavement. Anywhere that green can push through, it has, and sometimes so enthusiastically it feels like an explosion. Add to this tree roots, which, like ringleaders in a classroom, encourage the eruption. One nearby pavement, overlooked by the recent repaving scheme, looks like a mountain range with a green river running through it.
I was intrigued enough to download an app that promised to identify what, exactly, is bursting out. Although, after a few tries, I’m beginning to wonder if the age of my phone camera is compromising things. When pointed at anything green, it invariably tells me the same thing: tarassaco, or dandelion, which, even without any golden-wonder heads, is one of the few plants I can actually recognise.
