Avalanche

Day 138: Last night, I dreamt I was caught in an avalanche. Is it any wonder? There is one in my front flower bed, emerging from the recent showers of snow and hail as a drift of nodding bells. If not as colourful as the crocuses, they are left alone by the deer and raccoons whose ravages taught me not to replant their snack bar, although it took several years for the lesson to sink in. Suffice to say that I was happy when I found "volunteer" snowdrops in a corner of the forest where they had been discarded by some land owner, and relocated a trowel's-worth to my garden. I have since divided them, placing another grouping in the shady niche where Skunk, my old kitty, is laid to rest. She has violets, grape hyacinth and a smattering of daffodils as well. In the spring, I travel with a shovel/trowel, bucket or box or plastic bags as asked by the specific journey. You never know what cast-off treasure you might find, begging to be lifted from ignominy and given a nurturing home.