It rains and the trees go beserk. Piove.

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I was in the kitchen when the sun came out for a second. I watched through the windows at the plum trees in the street. Say what? I asked. The plum trees were offering their blossoms to the only winter rain. Funny, I muttered. The petals will blow away and we will not have any of those small plums I gather to make juices and a bit of jelly. Then the rain started again. and I remembered one of the greatest hits of the great Italian singers of the 60s, Domenico Modugno. This is a heartbreaking song and it has become immortal. Have you heard it?