Landmark-I-End of January.

It is very cold around here. The Mistral has been blowing strongly for quite a while.
Blue sky and bright sunshine could be welcomed, except that it is hard to withstand Aeolos in such tormented atmosphere. It can be worse than constant rain, because it pierces layers of clothes. When the wind blows hard, the village is a desert.
The only flower which dares appear in my small garden, in such appalling weather, has a deep purple colour enhanced by a bright creamy heart. When it appears, I celebrate this birth like a kind of miracle in the midst of winter. It was under snow three weeks ago.
Its common name is 'Christmas rose'. I had an idea the seeds were brought to Great Britain by the Tradescant family (either father or son) in the XVIIth century, from Russia where it blossoms in the snow; that is what I imagined, just like a snowdrop which has decided to be more glorious. Mine is a Corsican one, it can stand the scorching summer sun and has enough courage to resist this fierce wind.
Its leaves are coarser, serrated with longer stems than the common Christmas rose which is actually white.
Helleborus niger, which means 'eaten by fawns. That might be the only green bits appearing on the surface of the snow.
Snowdrops come out later, announcing springtime.
And that will be sung here :Song 2
Brief and beautiful, like all flowers, mine as well.
Celebration of winter when the wind blows in the yard, and the hellebore smiles.