Snowdrops usually appear in my little corner of New England at the end of February or early March. When the lawn is buried under snow and I’m tired of grey skies, these little friends begin pushing their way up through the snow, the energy from their growth melting a little pathway for them until they finally reach the sun and let me know that spring is indeed on the way. Some years it is hard to find them because of the depth of the snow on the ground, but this year it’s easy. We have had less than a foot of now so far and nothing is on the ground. In fact, today I wore a light sweater to work because it was in the 50s. I also heard birds singing all afternoon, as if spring had already arrived. It’s all so very weird, but I am relishing it.