Day 112: The Groundhog has been known to be wrong. I place far more trust in the Snowdrops' prognostications. They are telling me that winter is fading, yielding to the life force beneath the surface of the soil. Their enthusiasm is undeniable, undeterred by a layer of ice or snow as they push their way through frozen ground. "Delicate," some call them, or "dainty," but I see them as determined and unstoppable, the advance guard of a wave of blooms which will progress steadily into summer. Earlier even than crocuses and daffodils, Snowdrops proclaim the Spring.
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