..how to return through the thawing

ground and thin snow;

..From your first winter underground.

~Spring In The Garden; Edna St Vincent Millay

Even a small handful of snowdrops spotted along the road can lift my mood, even the first of the signs that the winter is fading, albeit taking its time, can make me smile and bring joy to the otherwise a bit bland time of the year.

Yet, when they appear in their amounts as these, as if some magic wand has sprinkled its charms over our small cottage garden – it simply brings more than that, my heart starts to believe, and almost cries out in its longing for the cold dark days to be finally truly moving out.

That little garden is covered as if small carpets were thrown along each side of the stepping stone pathway, many snowdrops and crocuses line each little corner, every mossy nook, every until now completely quiet spot.

After many years, I finally feel confident, at this place, in our garden, that I can, even if with strict measure, bring some of that beauty and joy home, indoors.

I always, always enjoy seeing any flowers happily thriving and being exactly where they, in my opinion, are simply meant to be – out there, in the soil, in the outer space, under the only ceiling possible – open skies.

As they not only please our eyes, but, as we all know, give life and sustain other creatures dwelling and sharing this space with us.

Those happy bumble bees, so drunk on the first sweet nectar, in that first sunshine!

When the evenings come, and all is covered by its veil of darkness out there, indoors I can still rest my sight on that handful of perseverance and hope, that small reminder of what keeps going on without my presence, without stopping, with no hesitation – its proof is right there, in the tiny vase, or sauce boat as a vessel, to keep on the windowsill, or a shelf, or even on my desk right here, where I can always make sure it’s truly happening – with just one single look.