Grace found in a kitchen garden

I never understand how February can feel so long, and yet how it can slip away so quickly. Here it’s been nearly two weeks since I’ve even posted anything. But that doesn’t mean that nothing’s happened. In fact, it’s more like the opposite: too much has happened, my world’s been all a-whirl.

Even a sixth blogiversary came and went (February 16th) without so much as a candle on a virtual cake.

I can’t help but think this lunar year’s water dragon may have something to do with it. The dragon’s arrival and this swirl of activity seem to have coincided.

Despite the fact that I am not a fan of white stuff that falls from the sky (or, for that matter, most things referred to as ‘white stuff’ whether dust that grows under the bed or cocaine), yesterday’s brief snowfall seemed like a message to slow down.

One of the first harbingers of spring, the snowdrop bends to whatever weathers may befall it. Its grace inspires tolerance, acceptance and calm.

The snowdrop blooming in the snow-dusted garden will be the symbol that carries me through the rest of this hurried month. Even with February’s extra day this year, March feels awfully darn close. And who knows, maybe I can carry the message of the snowdrop even longer.