We’ve had the snow and now it’s time for the snowdrops. The garden is looking pretty scruffy and neglected after that beautiful wrapping of white melted away so I was not expecting much when I went out there for a touch of taichi this morning. The sight of the first snowdrops of the year is for me, now I have stopped drinking alcohol, as exciting at the day when all good wine dealers declare: “Le Beaujolais Nouveau est arrive”. [ I am not clever enough to work out how an put acute accent on the last e of arrive so forgive my French. Maybe someone at Blogger cold show me. Hint.] Anyway, even for you wine drinkers out there, it is a long wait until the third Thursday in November. For now, let’s shout: “le perce-neige est arrive!” The snowdrops have arrived.
The old adage that one swallow doesn’t make a summer can I guess be applied to how many snowdrops make the first signs of Spring. I don’t care that Spring is a long way off still because I have always been a fan of early flowering bulbs. They are the poor man’s alternative to Winter holidays in the Caribbean. Any way, I don’t just have one snowdrop this morning, I have two.
As exciting, to my simple mind, are the vigorous and radiantly green shoots springing up all around them – it is soon going to be early bulb party time – yay!
It is a bit like the parable of the Prodigal Son however, I am the typical Dad in that story who welcomes the newcomer enthusiastically whilst taking the old dependent son (the boring one I always thought) for granted.
Today I am full of enthusiasm for those snowdrops and I have totally ignored the brave camellia bud that struggled through the snow and is now in full bloom even if it is, to say the least, a touch bedraggled.
Similarly, now the snow has gone, I barely noticed that the primroses had flowered throughout the winter and they are still looking good in my two primrose dedicated urns.