Between Lilac and Hawthorn when Vivaldi's Spring is played

"Now Comes the Time for Flowers
Den blomstertid nu kommer
med lust och fägring stor.
Du nalkas, ljuva sommar,
då gräs och gröda gror.
Med blid och livlig värma
till allt som varit dött,
sig solens strålar närma,
och allt blir återfött.

The summer days of beauty
in blessedness here to come.
The flowers are rejoicing
to feel the gleaming sun
in grace arisen brightly
o’er fields of golden grain
so warm and all restoring,
that nature lives again.

De fagra blomsterängar
och åkerns ädla säd,
de rika örtesängar
och lundens gröna träd,
de skola oss påminna
Guds godhets rikedom,
att vi den nåd besinna
som räcker året om.

The fragrance of the meadows,
the planting in the vale,
the whispers of the forest
through branches green and hale—
These wonders all remind us
how great the stores of wealth
of Him whose hand has made us,
who gives us life and health.

Man hörer fåglar sjunga
med mångahanda ljud,
skall icke då vår tunga
lovsäga Herren Gud?
Min själ, upphöj Guds ära,
stäm upp din glädjesång
till den som vill oss nära
och fröjda på en gång!

Oh, hear the sparrows praise Him
who trained them how to sing—
Should not our tongues awaken
and thank Creation’s King?
My soul, take up the anthem
with God’s rejoicing throng
and praise the one who gives you
this lovely summer song.”

Spring Compressed – Between Lilac and Hawthorn when Vivaldi's Spring is played

This year, spring was compressed into just a few weeks, with the blooming of bird cherry and lilac coinciding—something that, according to traditional wisdom, is not meant to occur. The Swedish expression "Mellan hägg och syren" (Between bird cherry and lilac) poetically describes a short yet distinct and beautiful period in May when the bird cherry blossoms first, followed closely by the lilac. It symbolises the fleeting, almost magical pre-summer time. While English lacks an exact equivalent, expressions such as ‘Between the blossoms’, ‘Between spring and summer’s kiss’, or ‘The fleeting days of May’ convey a similar seasonal transition.

This year, however, nature was in a hurry. After a long, sluggish start to spring, a sudden burst of warmth triggered an explosive bloom, causing plants and trees to flower simultaneously. This natural phenomenon, where the usual ten to fourteen days between the blooming of bird cherry and lilac shrank to just a few, mirrors the overlapping themes of rebirth and renewal in Vivaldi's 'Spring'. The compressed spring in nature and the musical piece both symbolize the fleeting, almost magical pre-summer time.

Tradition, music, and the coming of summer
One aspect not dictated by temperature but by tradition is the cherished end-of-term excursions before summer school breaks. These outings are not solely about thermoses of hot chocolate and sandwiches with fried eggs—they also feature children’s choirs singing classic Swedish summer songs that everyone in Sweden knows and adores.

The most beloved is "Den blomstertid nu kommer" (The Time of Blossoms Arrives). First printed in ‘Den Svenska Psalmboken’ in 1695 with the subtitle ‘Een Sommarwisa’, it is attributed to Israel Kolmodin, the superintendent of Visby on Gotland. Over the centuries, the lyrics have been revised multiple times, with the most recent update occurring in 1979. Despite its frequent classification as a hymn, its roots lie in older secular poetry. Though often called a psalm, the melody is regarded as a Swedish folk tune, as its composer remains unknown.

The first three verses of the song are traditionally performed at school graduation ceremonies across Sweden, heralding the arrival of summer. Even in Finland, ‘Den blomstertid nu kommer’ plays a significant role in school celebrations. Swedish-speaking schools sing the original Swedish version, while Finnish-speaking schools perform its Finnish translation, "Suvivirsi."

From summer hymns to Vivaldi’s Spring
Naturally, the children’s choir sang ‘Den blomstertid nu kommer’ on this day. But then it was time for the main event—Vivaldi’s "Spring" (La Primavera), published in 1725. This piece, a musical explosion of energy, is not just a composition but a masterpiece that captures the essence of spring in an inspiring and awe-inspiring way. It is part of ‘The Four Seasons’ (‘Le Quattro Stagioni’), a collection of four violin concertos, each representing a season. Each concerto consists of three movements, typically Allegro – Andante – Allegro, with the first movement of ‘Spring’ standing out as one of the most famous melodies ever written.

A springtime awakening in Baroque Venice
Imagine Venice in the early 18th century—awash in spring light, the scent of blooming flowers drifting through its narrow alleys, doves cooing in St. Mark’s Square, and the canals reflecting the Italian glow as if nature were conducting a symphony. Amidst this flourishing Baroque world, Antonio Vivaldi, the fiery-haired priest and virtuoso violinist, crafted something groundbreaking—The Four Seasons.

But 'Spring' was more than just a piece of music—it was a revolution. At a time when compositions were often formal and restrained, Vivaldi created a vivid musical painting, a transformative experience that captures the essence of spring in sound. He wanted his audience not just to hear the music, but to feel it, to be enlightened and inspired by the power of his creation.

Music that paints a picture
Vivaldi was far ahead of his time when he composed poetic sonnets to accompany each movement of ‘The Four Seasons’. Instead of allowing the music to speak for itself, he guided the listener’s imagination. In ‘Spring’, the piece begins with birds joyfully singing, babbling brooks, and a gentle spring breeze sweeping across the fields—all translated into the violins' jubilant trills and lively melodies.

It is said that the audience was captivated at its premiere. They could hear the birds chirping, feel the thunder rumbling in the second movement, and see nymphs and shepherds dancing in the final section. Perhaps it was the first time Baroque music felt so alive, almost cinematic.

And just like in Venice centuries ago, the children’s choir—singing their way into summer—brought the season to life, not just with words but with music that transcends time. Their performance, set against the backdrop of a compressed spring and the musical masterpiece of Vivaldi, serves as a powerful reminder of the enduring connection between music, nature, and the human experience.

Vivaldi and the Women of the Ospedale – A Hidden Musical Legacy

Imagine being a poor, unmarried woman in 18th-century Venice. With no wealth, family support, and few options, survival often meant submitting to the whims of the wealthy men who flooded Venice each year during Carnival, indulging in their Grand Tours. However, when these fleeting encounters led to pregnancy, the options were grim. Some women, driven by desperation, abandoned their newborns in the dark waters of the Venetian canals. Others, demonstrating remarkable resilience, turned to the Ospedale della Pietà, a beacon of hope in a time of despair, a charitable institution that welcomed unwanted children and offered them a chance at life.

At the Pietà, infants were placed through a small revolving opening, the scaffeta, ensuring the anonymity of their mothers. The boys were taught a trade and released at sixteen, while the girls either married, became nuns, or contributed to the institution through sewing and embroidery. However, fate had something grander in store for a select few. Around nine, all the girls were assessed for musical ability. The most talented were chosen as “figlie di choro”, the daughters of the choir, and given an extraordinary opportunity: an elite musical education that would transform them into some of the finest musicians of their time, a testament to their exceptional talent and dedication.

Life as a figlia di choro was both a privilege and a sacrifice. These young women were cloistered, expected to maintain their virginity, and dedicated their lives entirely to music. Many remained at the Pietà for life, performing at services, concerts, and prestigious events for visiting dignitaries. Their concerts were highly sought after, especially during Lent, when the opera houses were closed, drawing noble audiences from all over Europe.

It was into this unique world that Antonio Vivaldi entered in 1703. Ordained as a priest, yet far more passionate about music than religious duties, Vivaldi assumed the role of maestro di violino at the Pietà. His responsibilities included training these young women, conducting their ensembles, purchasing instruments, and composing works tailored to their abilities. He held this position until 1715 and later returned from 1723 to 1740. Under his leadership, the Pietà’s all-female orchestra and choir achieved legendary status, transforming the institution into a premier musical destination.

Unlike most orchestras of the time, which had a revolving door of musicians, the Pietà’s ensemble remained largely stable, allowing the musicians to develop extraordinary ensemble skills. The institution also provided ample rehearsal time, a rarity in 18th-century music circles. These factors contributed to their performances, gaining a reputation for technical brilliance and emotional depth, making them an essential stop for European music lovers.

Despite their fame, few of these women’s names are remembered today. One of the most celebrated was Anna Maria dal Violin, a violin prodigy trained under Vivaldi himself. He composed numerous violin concertos specifically for her, and contemporary accounts praise her as one of the greatest violinists of the era—male or female. Other performers were known simply by the instruments they played, their real names lost to history.

The Pietà was not merely a convent-like refuge but a place where women, despite the societal restrictions of the time, could flourish as professional musicians. Their music was their livelihood, devotion, and voice in a world where women rarely had a place in professional orchestras. While most musicians of the time were men, the figlie di choro were revered as equals by the European elite, proving that talent knew no gender.

Yet, despite the brilliance of these women, their teacher often overshadows them. Vivaldi’s name lives on, while his musicians remain anonymous. Their contribution to his legacy is rarely acknowledged, even though they were the inspiration and the performers behind some of his greatest works. When we hear The Four Seasons today, we seldom think of the talented women who might have first played those pieces behind the iron grilles of the Pietà, unseen yet unforgettable.

As for Vivaldi himself, his personal life remains something of a mystery. Unlike many composers of his time, there are no records of romantic or sexual relationships—neither with men nor women. Some rumours linked him to his student Anna Maria, but these have long been dismissed. As a priest, he was expected to remain celibate, but due to the complete absence of romantic connections, some speculate that Vivaldi may have been asexual. Whether out of religious devotion or a genuine disinterest in such matters, he appears to have lived a life entirely dedicated to music, his greatest love, a unique circumstance that adds an intriguing layer to his story.

Today, musicians still perform Vivaldi's works for these remarkable women, yet their names remain largely forgotten. Hopefully, in time, the ladies of the Pietà will be recognised as the true virtuosos they were—equal to the maestro who shaped them.

Vivaldi – The Obstinate Prelate
Vivaldi was officially a priest, yet his religious devotion was somewhat dubious. He was known to leave mid-mass—sometimes amid a ceremony—to jot down a melody that had suddenly struck him swiftly. According to legend, he once dashed out of the church, his red priestly robe billowing behind him, desperate to capture a fleeting musical idea before it vanished!

Now, there’s a historical twist to this tale. Red robes were reserved for cardinals in the Catholic Church, while ordinary priests typically donned black or dark attire. Since Vivaldi was a priest, not a cardinal, he would have worn a dark cassock rather than a red one.

But why the connection to red? It wasn’t his robe—it was his hair. Vivaldi was famously known as "Il Prete Rosso"—"The Red Priest", a nickname referring to his striking fiery red locks. Over time, romanticised versions of his life may have conjured the image of him dashing through Venice in a scarlet cloak, but in reality, it was likely his vivid red curls streaked through the air as he rushed to capture his melodies on paper.

A Hidden Orchestra and a Musical Revolution
Vivaldi’s position at the Ospedale della Pietà, a Venetian orphanage for girls, gave him a unique opportunity to cultivate his music. There, he trained a group of orphaned girls into some of the most brilliant musicians in the world. When ‘Spring’ (‘La Primavera’) was first performed, it is said that it was played by an all-female orchestra hidden behind a screen—as the girls were not permitted to be seen by the audience. Yet, their talent could not be ignored. People journeyed great distances to hear this invisible orchestra perform Vivaldi’s joyous, shimmering compositions.

Spring still blooms today.
‘Spring’ remains one of the most performed pieces in history. It appears in films and advertisements, as lounge music, and endlessly on classical concert programmes—even in lifts! But its magic remains undiminished, for what Vivaldi created was not just music—it was a sensation, an experience.

So the next time you hear those glittering opening notes of ‘Spring, think of the priest who painted soundscapes with his music, ran out of churches mid-mass to write down a melody, and forever captured the magic of spring in a cascade of radiant tones on the violin.

”I. Allegro
Giunt' è la Primavera e festosetti
La salutan gl’augelletti con lieto canto,
E i fonti, al mormorio dolce del zeffiro,
Con dolce mormorio scorrono intanto:
Vengon' coprendo l’aer di nero manto,
E lampi, e tuoni ad annunciarla eletti;
Indi, tacendo questi, gli augelletti
Tornan' di nuovo al lor canoro incanto.

II. Largo
E quindi sul fiorito ameno prato,
Al caro mormorio di fronda e piante,
Dorme il caprar col fido can a lato.

III. Allegro
Di pastoral zampogna al suon festante
Danzano ninfe e pastor nel tetto amato
Di primavera all’apparir brillante.”

The sonnet and the music – a perfect harmony
This sonnet is directly intertwined with the music—each poem corresponds to a different concerto movement. The birds’ song is reflected in the trilling violins and the rumbling thunder in the dissonant chords and rapid scales. At the same time, the peaceful second movement mirrors the shepherd resting by the brook, as portrayed in the soft, flowing melody.

Over the centuries, new lyrics and choral arrangements have been written for ‘Spring, ’ particularly in modern choral music and popular adaptations. However, Vivaldi’s sonnets remain the most authentic textual companion to his masterpiece.

Hearing children sing these verses in Vivaldi’s original Italian, surrounded by the lush landscapes of Skåne, underscores the universal nature of music and poetry. The essence transcends language, proving that the spirit remains unchanged even if the words differ.

A spring day in Italy, like in Sweden, varies depending on the location—whether along the coast or at higher altitudes. A meadow just a few hundred metres above the Mediterranean can have the same climate as Skåne, 1,300 kilometres to the north. And in both places, the same larks trill joyfully over the wildflowers, uniting these landscapes in a shared harmony of nature and sound.