Written in snow.
Anything written in snow is gone by the first warm afternoon. A lot of gifts go the same way. A big moment in December, the back of a closet by the thaw.
This one goes the other way. By the time the snow's gone, she has a few pages in it. By next winter she has a record of the year: what the garden did, who came to visit, what she was thinking about on a Tuesday.

