G entle white pearls shining amongst the long grass beneath the trees, and softly bowing heads rippling across the banks that line the narrow paths. These little augers of spring, rise bravely from the frozen earth to declare their victory over the forces of winter.
There are few sights more apt to lift spirits than drifts of snowdrops gathering in valleys like fallen white blossom swept into piles by the breeze, sending their message of fortitude in the harshest of circumstances. Beneath frozen earth they lie, quietly waiting for temperatures to rise far enough that bees will fly in search of food. Then they waken, pushing their leaves up through the hardened earth to open their flowers for the nectar-hunters.
N ature never ceases to amaze, creating vast, panoramic scenes of such beauty that they take our breath away while at the same time, producing something as simple as snowdrops in a woodland, a scene which has the power to banish winter blues and bring smiles to the faces of all whose eyes light upon them.
Despite missing many things about living in Portugal, I’m now wholly immersed in walking in Somerset and re-discovering some of the joys of living in Britain, not least, snowdrops.
