|The Snowdrops, that make me wax poetic.|
While going through the various motions of a Monday morning routine, stripping beds, sorting laundry and gathering steam to de-clutter the house from the weekend, I had occasion to step onto my front porch. There waiting for me, was a gift from the gods. Snowdrops. Blooming. Against all odds.
These delightful little flowers had started their sojourn: back when the snow storms raged and the ice seemed to prevailed. I was not sure, after all of the setbacks of nature, if they would gather enough momentum to bloom.
|The one rose bush I have not |
managed to kill,... yet
These Snowdrops, not only continue to bloom, they have naturalized which makes them an investment which has paid me back in spades. By that I mean, not having to use the "spade" to plant any more bulbs to get these additional blooms.
While the rest of the vegetation in my gardens are dormant and to be brutally honest, ugly, these little white flowers have made my day. Gives me hope that the rest of the world, in snowy, cold Illinois, will someday soon be warm and full of other flowers blooming.
Until a year or two ago, I had never been anywhere warm when it was still cold and barren here. I have never minded winter or the wait for spring; I like the natural rhythm of nature and the gradual change of the seasons. Granted, sometimes it seems a little too gradual, but all of the same, I willingly choose these environs.
|A snail, given to me by my friend.|
While I have been happy to help my friend, I could skip Florida. To some this is a shocking statement. But to me, this warm, sunny place, this premature glimpse of spring, the no-see'um bites, and reptiles (I could live without) cheapen the Midwestern springs, I have always loved.