Snowdrops

The other day, my mum came into the house all excited and told me there were snowdrops growing outside, knowing that my own excitement would far exceed hers. She was right.

It's not so much the flowers themselves, as what they represent that makes me so happy to see them again. When I was younger, my favourite book involved a girl whose birthday was also in April, and she said that she liked it when the snowdrops came out because it meant her birthday was near. This has been imprinted into my brain so well, that I think the same thing, even when it's only January. Now that I am older and wiser, it's not so much the close proximity of my birthday that makes me happy with the snowdrops, but the promise of warmer weather, and a time when all the flowers bloom again. This is enough to get anyone over the winter blues.

I can't wait for spring, and with it, the firm promise of summer.