Minute, but glorious white slips of snowdrops
Chris and I went to NYC where there was no snow. He had never been to the Cloisters so off we went, and in one of their gardens, I saw snowdrops – not in the sky, but growing at the base of a very old espaliered pear tree, and then nearby, surrounding quince trees. I must return in spring.
Dreading the return to Berkshire winter, I had the thrill and surprise of seeing my fall-planted spinach when I removed snow cover from my cold frame. The delight of snow’s striptease.
