Signs of Spring
It was Thursday 20th January and I had taken myself outside despite the chill air to feed the birds and have a potter, idly pruning a few things here and there, when I noticed the first open snowdrop. It was hiding under a low-growing azalea, sweetly, singly with its delicate white head bowed shyly towards Morther Earth. What a fragile symbol of hope and rebirth it was.
And now three more weeks have passed and those little white ladies are dancing all over the garden. They choose the most unlikely places sometimes, squeezing their way up through cracks in slabs of granite - or they find their natural showplace carpeting the brown leafy ground at the base of the stately beeches in a fresh new pattern of green and white.
The daffodils, too, are starting to poke their noses out of the ground. If the weather continues in this warmer vein, they will be amongst us before too long. A friend came to coffee yesterday clutching a couple of simple, tightly closed bunches in elastic bands. I put them in a glass vase immediately - no need to arrange - and before she'd left they'd already started to reveal sunny glimpses of their inner beauty.
What could be better on a dank grey day? The yellow daffodil, the true harbinger of Spring.
Friday, 11th February 2011
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