Among my many fond memories of living in New England is seeing the snowdrops push their way up through the dirt, wet leaves, and slush in February. They were the first harbinger of spring, and I planted them deliberately to have something blooming before the crocuses came up in March.
My garden in Israel has been a disappointment thus far. Most of the plants in it are spindly or diseased, and the soil (of the worst possible quality) is packed so hard that it took hours of hacking away last year for the girls and me to put in a few bulbs. (I have requested that the Cap’n start a fund toward which we put the money for a total overhaul of the garden in another year or two.) Last spring we had a couple of crocuses, a few narcissus, and two hyacinths. This year only one hyacinth has appeared in the great confusion of warm weather before winter’s final exit. (The other hyacinth and most of the crocuses appear to have been dug up in the course of the local feral felines using my garden as a public loo.) Beans came in breathless this afternoon having taken a turn about the garden and spotted the Lone Survivor:
Ahhh, a spot of beauty in a garden of mediocrity.