The first of March is still winter—and yet here are the faithful snowdrops emerging beside the front walk, a perpetually hopeful sign of growing things to come. I had to run and fetch the sketchbook.
Polly
The first of March is still winter—and yet here are the faithful snowdrops emerging beside the front walk, a perpetually hopeful sign of growing things to come. I had to run and fetch the sketchbook.
Polly