I first read Edith Holden’s entry for the 24th of February on the 24th….but must have just skimmed it without really taking it in. When I read it again just before I turned the page to March, I was back in the longing place I used to be so often as a young woman…the longing to have lived in an earlier time, a slower time, a quieter time (except when one of the then-new automobiles might have passed by!), a time when a thoughtful farmer might bring you a lamb to hold after you have just picked armfuls of his flowers….

Edith’s ride on that day seems the perfection of this time of year….yes, even down to the seven-mile ride in the sleet and snow. Imagine how good the eventual dry clothes and hot tea and scones would be…

Oh! What I would give right now for a little dark-faced lamb to hold in my arms as it nuzzles my face…my bicycle leaning up against a stone wall, it’s basket full of snowdrops…