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I am not a winter sort of girl—snowy paths and frozen fields are (in my opinion) best suited to Christmas cards and folks who like to ski.

Christmas is past, and I don’t like skiing or any other form of activity that involves snow, unless you consider sitting by a fire with my hands curled around a steaming mug of chocolate (or hot mulled wine) while watching the snow fall outside the window an activity.

Now is when I begin to long for sunshine and more hospitable temperatures.   My attitude and outlook on life can begin to cloud over a bit.  Sometimes quite a bit.    I daydream of long stretches of time spent working in the garden, and of being anyplace warmer than where I am.

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But, as much as I love summer (I would love spring too, except here in the Willamette Valley it’s more of a state-of-mind than an actual season) I hate the thought of wasting time by wishing my life away.  Each of us is only allotted a certain number of days, and I am not in a rush to see mine come to an end.  So I try to be patient, and learn to love the waiting.

I go on walks with the dog and look for things I wouldn’t see at other times of the year—rose hips encased in glittering ice; bird nests blown down in a storm; icy-edged streams with wild mallards splashing in them, jumping up when they see me and flying noisily away—and I wait.

I begin to poke about the garden and look for signs that this season is tiring and the next is gathering strength—the swelling of the buds on the japanese maples; the daffodil spears beginning to lengthen almost as imperceptibly as the lengthening of the daylight hours; and the clusters of daphne buds fattening and pinking up as their bloom time gets closer.

But mostly, I wait for the violets.

After Christmas, I begin to look for them each day, waiting for the tiny purple blossoms to peek out from under their protective canopy of green.

I wait for the violets because I know that when the violets appear, winter will begin to make room for spring—and that my wonderful friends, fills me with hope!

I wait for the violets, because when violets come, it will only be a short time before the daphne opens  saturating the air with its citrus-y sweet fragrance. (If ‘hope’ had a fragrance, it would smell like daphne odora.) Then the daffodils will bloom, the quince, the camellias, and…I think you understand.

 Today, the violets arrived.

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Thanks for coming to see me!   Happy Day to all of you…may it be filled with violets, or whatever brings you hope!

With love,
Lorrie

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