Quotes About Snowdrops

March winds blew benevolent, and nearing the day of shamrock observance, with all its anxiousness and pomp due to the Orange menace, the snowdrops bloomed, and shoots of tulip bulbs angled towards the sky. And rain. The Village Crier had cried correctly---the Farmer's Almanac too---early spring!

I drove out of Dartmouth and after a while Start Bay emerged out of the brightening gloom like the end of a set of parentheses in a book about the natural world. Inside the parentheses was a story about the sea. Outside them, the land: green, red and brown fields, and hills curling over the landscape. I saw small, delicate clumps of snowdrops, big rough patches of gorse, and along the thin road, houses with yellow roses and mimosa growing in their gardens.

It's only the beginning of January, but some daffodils and snowdrops have made it through the earth and stand wetly in little rows by the path. The bus stop is depressing; there's a line of people looking as cold and fragile as the line of flowers [...]