The snow has melted away, but the ground is still dotted here and there with clumps and swathes of white, as the fair maids of February enjoy their hour of glory. They always remind me of my grandmother, who was I think particularly fond of these delicate harbingers of spring; and I share her delight at the sight of these pearly white jewels with their short green stems, who venture out so bravely in the cold to give us hope and remind us that winter never lasts forever.
My grandmother was a keen watercolourist, especially of flowers, and come January/February, her painting table would always contain at least one little vase of snowdrops, from which we would receive painted images wishing us much love and joy. As I went around the garden the other day, picking one snowdrop here, and a couple there (so that no clump should end up looking too bare), I thought of her, and echoed her life's refrain: Te Deum!
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