Geological layer one: When sometimes even the stones bloom, it's likely a sign of an explosion. The juices strive to pierce through the crusts and layers that repress their protest. Spring is an explosion. Its power cannot be contained and violently breaks the earth. It protests with flowers.

So when entire slopes in those areas took on the most complex colors, dominated by yellow and violet, you had the impression that the rocks were blooming. Ayi-Sideris, the copper-colored mountain above Tsheria, (you would name it from iron rather than from the saint), Mavrovouna above Saidona, the three Koutroubelakia, above Exohori, (three successive peaks that from below appeared parallel), Gaidourovouni above Nomitsi and Platza, the gray stones above Vathia, were colored, with the invasion of spring, as if by a miracle. And it was indeed something otherworldly.

It happened that the rains were few and water nonexistent. The whole place was groaning from its lack. How did the rocks bloom? [...] This wave of colors and fragrance also climbed onto the balconies, while on the walls and fences, rosemary and marjoram spilled over.

Balconies of all kinds - terraces and open-air spaces - overflowed with all sorts of carnations and corals, inside whitened tin cans of cheese, olives, and pickles. It is true that one way to measure how much popular culture endures is by how long the flowered balconies still hold on...