In a walk this afternoon, around the village, we were caught out by one of those squally wintry showers that comes from nowhere, dumps skip loads of hail or wet snow down ones neck and then disappears as quickly as it had arrived leaving no trace of it having even existed. Having set off from home in sunshine by the time we got to the village green it was not pleasant at all. Diving into the lychgate of the village church gave some respite and while there the musings for today's blog entry emerged. Peering through the open archways it reminded me that lychgates were where the coffin was held prior to a funeral. Beyond the gate however I could see a carpet of snowdrops around the gravestones, so in a lull in the weather I wandered over to take some pictures. Some call the snowdrop 'Candlemass bells' and their shape reminiscent of an earring accounts for it's name. Yet the snippet of folklore I like is that it derives from Adam and Eve, despairing of the endless winter, Eve saw an angel, who caught some snowflakes and made them into spring flowers to bring hope for the arrival of spring. And that is what I mulled over as I wandered through the gravestones admiring these delicate but tough spring flowers, bringing a ray of hope to the cycle of life, birth, death, winter and summer we all endure from the cradle to the grave, but even on a day like today these snowpiercers give out their brilliance and a ray of hope!
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