The Gentle Author’s Diary 1
For months now, I have barely cast a glance upon my garden. It was only when the snow melted towards the end of January that I found there was already new growth, which I had neglected while my attention was drawn exclusively by the hearth. So it was a pure delight when I took a moment to study my sorry patch of cultivation this week and discovered three different varieties of Hellebore in bloom. Like the rest of us, these plants hang their heads against the winter weather yet, once I looked closer at the flowers sheltering under the leaves, their subtle beauty was revealed.
Each Sunday, since the beginning of the year when there were no traders at all, the markets of the East End have gradually returned to life and, in spite of the rain and snow, a momentum has been established that will carry us into spring. A certain doggedness is required of us all to endure such challenging conditions and thus any signs of transition are welcome indicators, seized upon with disproportionate joy because they confirm our tenderly-guarded anticipation of the respite that must come.