I am wandering round the garden, front and back, in the search for the Harbingers of Spring.
I make a good start with the primroses, blooming beautifully in my newly created
Lily Bed in the front garden. The lilies themselves are looking a little worse for wear, given the current frosty weather, but (optimist that I am) I feel sure they will recover. I mean, they always do, year on year. There is no way I am giving up on them.
But what's going on with the snowdrops I planted so hopefully along with the primroses? Or, rather, what's not going on?
One solitary snowdrop has lifted its brave head above the ground. I try to remember
how many I planted - at least twenty, maybe more. Five per cent success is Not A Good Rate. Maybe I should take a leaf out of The Donald's book and claim a veritable carpet of snowdrops greeting my eye?
go on a Daffodil Count. Usually our gardens abound with daffs but while there are several welcome clumps appearing in the front garden, out back they appear to be Lying Low. I feel slightly disillusioned as I head back to Him Indoors. All that planting and
nurturing, all those words of encouragement. Mr B reckons I need to have more faith. This is a totally unusual turn of events in that I am normally the Eternal Optimist while Mr B prefers to err on the side of pessimism, on the grounds that, if and when things
turn out better than expected, he will be pleasantly surprised.
I decide to take the Pulse bus into town in search of bargains. Yes, I know that it is nearly the end of January but these days the January Sales
last well into February, don't they? Or even March. It is freezing cold waiting for the bus and I start to think I am being unfair to the snowdrops and daffy-down-dillies because, let's face it, who wouldn't hunker down in icy weather? The bus is full of passengers
who may, or may not be hoping to snap up something in the sales. The woman sitting in front of me is complaining loudly to her companion about the way the goalposts have moved concerning the pension age for women. I count my lucky stars that I retired (in
style) when I did.
There are any number of glasses - wine glasses, tumblers, champagne flutes - in the sales but I already have three cupboards full of glasses which I use but rarely. I can't find any cut-price
Super King Size bedding while none of the picture frames I like are in the sales. Locating a bargain that I actually need is getting as difficult as finding daffodil shoots in the back garden. Then, at the last minute, I spy a toaster. Half price too! Mr B
has been telling me we need a toaster for ever so long - ever since, in fact, our last toaster Departed This Life having burnt its last crumpet.
I take a trip to see my friend Penny who looked after Mr B so
royally on Sunday while I was out enjoying myself with my Jolly Girls. Mr B has sent a bottle of wine to which I have added a pot plant as a present from me. Penny says it was her pleasure even though Mr B beat her at Cribbage. Penny is a True Friend.
Walking home I come across a woman waiting by her broken down car for someone to rescue her. I wonder if she's been waiting long and ask if she'd like a hot drink - my house is only a few doors along. It turns out she
is right outside her own house - she is a neighbour I never knew I had. We exchange names and say how good it is to meet each other.
By now I am feeling quite remarkably cheery as I reflect on my good fortune.
Retiring in style, a bargain toaster, a helpful friend, a new neighbour...
The primroses turn their smiling faces to greet me as I walk down the garden path. "We're here!" they say, "Never mind the snowdrops,
just look at us!"
They are another perfect reminder to be grateful and glad for what's here and now, rather than for what may be.
Though I've not completely
given up on the daffy-down-dillies...