I looked out the window a few days ago and surveyed the back garden. Within seconds, I saw the gleaming white of a lone snowdrop in bloom.
Lovely readers, we simply do not have snowdrops blooming this early around here, until this year.
I assume the mild fall, followed by a colder than normal few days in November, followed but what has been so far a mild winter, coaxed this one lone snowdrop to come up and flower.
As soon as I saw it from the window, I ran out the door with my smartphone in hand, sans coat, and shivered up to the lone flower to make sure it was what I thought it was and give it its proper respect and homage.
Then, after taking pictures of the snowdrop as though it was, is, and will be the last flower ever in my garden, even though I know it isn’t and won’t be, I checked all the other locations where I think snowdrops are planted and didn’t see any more.
And in a fit of extreme optimism, I walked around the back lawn to see if one, just one, of the thousands of crocuses I’ve planted decided to also bloom earlier than normal.
Alas, all was quiet in the back lawn. All is muted in shades of tan, brown, and green with nary a bit of purple from a crocus.
That’s fine with me. If flowers show up too soon, it interrupts my winter-time rest and relaxation. It cuts short my winter holiday. It makes me feel guilty for not going out and doing something in the garden.
But lest you think I am completely lazy, I have been thinking about my garden and now I have three big ideas that I can start working on, even during the wintertime.