One of my earliest memories is of picking Snow Drops in the paddock next door to our home in Macarthur, Victoria, with a little boy named Dragon. (I called him Draggy). It was an early, frosty and cold, crisp kind of morning. My hands were cold. I was 3 years old.  Snow drops are my favourite flower, probably because they are associated with such a wonderful memory. I often wonder what ever happened to Draggy?