When I was a child, I was visiting my grandmother in the village almost every Sunday. It was kind of annoying for most of the visits. I used to find it boring being there and sooo much work to do all the time - work, I was never fond of, since it wasn't anything joyful.
The most exciting thing, or better said - the least annoying, was sweeping the porch, which I was imagining was more like playing with the vine leaves. The porch was covered with vines - old, proud, very delicious fruit giving vines that threw the most interesting, playful shade over.
I have to admit, I loved sitting under the vines, feeling hugged and protected. I even had a swing - a sailor's rope, tightly tied around the two of the strongest arms of the vine.
The only thing I could think of in the car on our way there, was how fast the sun could travel his way towards the sunset, so I could leave this village. Before I was even there, I was eager to go back to my tiny room in the small flat on the first floor of the five story building I grew up in. This miserable feeling only lasted until I reached to the squeaky green front door of my grandmother's house. After I climbed up the three stairs, after I made the door sing its pitchy but happy song, the cleanest, whitest and most purely innocent snowdrops used to welcome all of us, delicately swinging their bell heads, waltzing in rhythm with the spring song of the wind.
Grandma had them planted all along the path, leading towards the house, and I can promise you, I was feeling blessed to witness this Beauty.
A snowdrop is a child's innocence! Since it is a messenger, a "town cryer", firstly announcing the arrival of the spring, the new beginning and the awakening of all the flowers, I have decided to start my botanical book with this particular plant.
So... page one of my Botanical book is