After a long, wintry month of February, I spotted two hopeful snowdrop blossoms while out for a walk. They twinkled like tiny stars nestled in the partially frozen ground. I love these little flowers, as they are usually one of the first signs that winter is ending in my area.

In the Language of Flowers, a poetic form of communication widespread during Victorian times, snowdrops often symbolize hope. What can be more hopeful than the first blooms of spring?

I discovered the Language of Flowers through Vanessa Diffenbaugh’s inspiring novel of the same name, which I read several years ago. Captivated by the idea, I created an art series of greeting cards I printed myself. These were among my first mixed media pieces using collage, colored pencil, and ink spray.

During my research, I was enchanted by a creation myth that tells the following story of the snowdrop.

During the creation of the natural world, snow, wind, and rain were not assigned any colors. In protest, the snow refused to melt at the end of winter, prolonging the season indefinitely. The creator asked each flower to share its color with the snow, but they all refused. Only the tiny snowdrop took pity on the snow and offered her own white color. The flower’s generosity was rewarded with the privilege of blooming while the earth was still covered in snow, bringing the promise of spring to the world.

I believe kindness and generosity can alleviate grief, anger, and sorrow. Practicing these qualities helped me connect with others during my acute grief. I am grateful for the small blessings that encouraged my hope in healing, and I am reminded of them by the first intrepid snowdrops of spring!