'It was the middle of January now, a fine cold Wednesday morning. Ellen, who had half an hour off before serving lunch, came out of the porch in her old coat, the belt hanging, to cut sprigs of winter jasmine for the tables. Jasmine was all there was at present; soon there would be winter aconites and snowdrops, floods of gold and white under the trees; then daffodils, then primroses and violets...' Dorothy Whipple Someone at a distance
How is your garden? I miss pottering in it, but look forward to spring and the new life, but bought the first bunch of daffodils at the weekend.