“The little brown bulbs went to sleep in the ground,
In their little brown nighties they slept very sound.
And winter he raged and he roared overhead,
But never a bulb turned over in bed.
But when spring came tip-toeing over the lea,
Her finger on lip, just as still as could be,
The little brown bulbs at the very first tread
All split up their nighties and jumped out of bed.”
This little poem came from a scrapbook kept by Laura Stuart’s mother; John and Laura Stuart are long-time EWGS members but due to age, cannot attend anymore. I recently helped Laura go through some of these scrapbooks………. and this poem, written by a friend of her mother’s, was unimportant to Laura. But not to me!
NOTE TO THE WISE: Don’t just toss grandma’s scrapbooks until you go through them page by page, watching for treasures.