Walking round our garden last weekend I noticed a few brave blooms peeping through to see if spring had arrived. Poor little things, I hope they have survived their bravery as snow fell on us on Monday and they were all buried alive.
I ventured outside during the morning but only stayed long enough to find the sweet scented blooms of the hamemalis (witch hazel) hanging like fragile yellow ribbons. They looked as if they were turning their backs on the unwelcome clumps of cold white stuff that had landed on them overnight. But they are hardy souls so I know they will pull through.
Amazingly the delicate little snowdrops seem to relish the thought of blankets of snow and never look worse for wear. Most of our clumps were buried up to their necks but these brave little blooms had found a sheltered spot under an azalea bush.
I like to think that long ago,
There fell to earth some flakes of snow
Which loved this cold grey world of ours
So much, they stayed as snowdrop flowers.
This little poem has always been a favourite of mine. I think it's attributed to Mary Vivian.
What a nice warm feeling you get sitting indoors on a day like this. Here is the view from our sitting room window across the patio to the wood beyond.
Logs crackle as a warm fire burns brightly in the grate and I happily nestle in a cosy spot surrounded by.....
....yes, you've guessed it, knitting yarn. And the result of my snowy day spend indoors...
...a little lady who is getting ready to pose for a new 'flutterby patch' banner at the end of the month.
Until next time,
Eli
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