Tranquility before the storm

Snowdrops under the elder tree

The electricity had flickered off twice already yesterday, and the rain was intermittent, with fierce gusts of wind blowing things around. The downspout from our guttering came adrift and banged around on the rooftop.

The stormy weather was, however, interspersed with rather dramatic intervals of sunlight, and underneath the swaying branches, the little snowdrops were a peaceful presence at one end of the garden. It made sense to me to capture their essence, if I could, before the snow falls and damages their delicate, drooping petals.

Folks like us out in the sticks have seemed to decide to hunker down and ride out the storm. No trek into the market town for choir rehearsal. Possibly no venture out on Friday for a dear friend’s birthday lunch, if the snow is too severe. No movement is planned at all over the next few days, except for my own highly-anticipated foray down the track, of course, in the teeth of the snowy blast. Although the seed potatoes from Scotland arrived yesterday, and I ventured outside to trim some more of the hedge, by mid-afternoon Storm Dudley’s wind got up and I retreated indoors to my warm and cosy nook. The new generator has been on stand-by, all ready to roar into action. Meanwhile, although the wind was moaning, I had a sense of tranquility before the real storm.

The snowdrops, as peaceful and unassuming as they are, like faery lamp-posts in a green enchanted glenn, are there because of a clump of bulbs offered to us years ago by a great gardening friend. I supplemented that clump thereafter with dozens more. Their appearance is such a delight, in the depths of winter, not that winter is really that dreadful these days, but the end of boring grey skies and gloom is presaged by the nodding white bells.

I hope the snowdrops will be seen again, after the snowfall expected upon the arrival, back-to-back with Dudley, of Storm Eunice, but if not, well there’s always the daffodils, planted in great swathes of borders around the place, to tell us that spring is really here.

All in their good time, and after the storms pass.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: