A smile for February
I think February is probably the worst month of the year here in the UK. It is invariably grey and cold, with the threat of snow never too far away. We are all miserable and suffering from seasonal affective disorder (SAD, such an apt acronym). Last week I ventured out into the garden, wrapped up and shod with Wellington boots as the lawn is a mud bath, and I think the term ‘unwilling’ was an understatement. While conversing with the husband on plans for the garden, I suddenly saw a little bit of magic which made my heart soar and a smile break out despite chattering teeth.
What, I hear you ask, could I have possibly found? Snowdrops! Beautiful clumps of snowdrops poking their heads out from the muddy frozen ground. I suddenly felt just plain happy. Spring will be on its way soon and somehow all will be well with the world again. Having found the snowdrops, I then looked around and found some hellebores. What a glorious plant they are and to show you what a poor gardener I am, I had completely forgotten having planted them, or rather I do remember planting the odd one. I think that they, along with the snowdrops, have secretly been spreading themselves and multiplying. Unlike the pet rabbits (another story), I am very happy for these gorgeous little plants to continue to reproduce themselves as much as they like and would like to know how to encourage it actively.
This is just what dames need: gardens that grow themselves, provide beauty and happiness in the bleakest month and all we have to do is look out the window to see them. I have been so affected by my little snowdrops that I decided to wrap up even more and go for a WALK in Kew Gardens where they have over twenty different species. It’s amazing how quickly you can become a snowdrop expert when faced with them all together. So it’s a big thank you to these gentle but clearly tough little plants, for getting me outside and cheering me up! Bring on May and bluebells!