The first sign of spring around our way is the arrival of snowdrops. They are such delicate little flowers, held aloft on a single slender stalk above smooth, narrow leaves they shimmer in the cold late winter breezes. And yet despite their fragile appearance they are tough little plants, breaking through the frozen earth with their tenacious green shoots and unfurling their pure white petals in patches of dappled sunlight.
There's nothing quite as uplifting as the sight of drifts of them spread beneath the bare trees, clustered together as though huddling against the cold weather. The February landscape is still dull and brown and appears dormant but snowdrops signal that a change is gradually gathering pace. I've been feeling a little low of late and was in need of a little natural pick-me-up, so today I wrapped up warmly in lots of woolly layers and braved the frosty morning and cold winds to go on a snowdrop hunt. There are quite a few places to find them locally but my favourite is a tiny patch of woodland sandwiched between a quarry and the tiny hamlet of Westmill - just a few pretty red-roofed cottages clustered around an old medival mill.
I've arrived back home with muddy knees; a few nettle stings around my ankles (I managed to kneel it a patch of them and didn't notice until it was too late) and cold, red cheeks but I'm feeling cheered and invigorated. I'm now warming up with knitting and a cup of tea before heading out to pick Toby up from his after school club.
If you're also feeling a little down I hope you find a little something to lift your spirits this week. If you have time let me know in the comments what's brightening your days at the moment. See you soon with a little of what I've been knitting
J x
