At the fish market this morning, I wandered off to take photos for a few minutes in order to clearly distinguish between me (not shopping for shellfish) and my mother. Then off for vegetables, young artichokes and sculptural puntarelle. There were no dried fennel flowers to be found; I had not realized, when I first bought a little jar at an Italian food fair in London several years ago, that this was a rare ingredient even in Italy. (Not that Venice is ever the best place to buy faintly obscure non-local food products.)
The weather has finally cleared and the air has a touch of spring to it. In one of the astonishingly innumerable cloisters at the hospital of SS. Giovanni e Paolo, cherry blossoms dappled delicately pink. The daffodils are blooming here too. No one knew how to dress: we saw everything from short sleeves through to furs.