The snowdrops have blossomed in the garden. Their little heads are bowed, almost provocatively, so they are either shy or coy, regardless, they are breathtakingly eye catching so objective achieved. They don’t need to straighten their neck and shoulders to catch us in the eye as they compel us to drop to our knees, the desire to touch the light in the longer days certainly too difficult for me to ignore. The year is moving on at pace, the days darting beyond the darkness and winning the race to tread the silky sky further into the evening.
Harris has been in the world for 44 days and each and every day has delivered a light long imagined and generously cherished. He’s beautiful. Yes, a grandmother will say that, but regardless of his handsome features he brings beauty to a world that deserves to have shards of light flaming under its skin. Hope leaps from our hands when there is something to love, a scorching in our hearts that doesn’t wither like ashes, it springs from the shadows and blossoms like snowdrops.
It’s Valentine’s Day. Its hallmark is now nothing but commercial nonsense but love means everything and a grandmother’s love, ha, now you’re talking. Feck off with all that fabricated drivel, this is the real thing.
Happy Valentine’s Day one and all. Love is in the air, fold your knees and caress its gentle white petals. Embrace its hope and hold fast to its daring dreams.
Margot McCuaig 