Crocus Strong

12 04 2013

 

crocus-2Spring is having trouble booting in the midwest this year. My bulbs came up in sunshine and warmth only to be covered in ice twice and snow three times.

The little golden patch of crocus keeps trying. When the sun comes the buds are glorious and open, petals outstretched as arms embracing the hope of newness. When covered in ice or snow (or both), the buds are shut tight. Patient. Protected.

My crocus (or is it crocuses, or croci?) are resilient. Even after every type of weather dumped on them from confused clouds, they endure.

My little gold-buds contain wisdom. The perfect time for blooming is built into their bulbs and they obey the instructions without complaint or frustration.

My spring heralds are hope-harbingers. They are pretty, however the joy they deliver is also due to the promise of the new life they signal– spring returning after death and harsh barren cold.

My returning friends are delicate as butterfly wings and as strong as sub-zero ice. Their beauty is powerful and their strength is radiant.

My tiny droplets of colorful hope lead the entire garden community, sleepers still, waiting for safer days. The others are not strong enough to be a crocus.

I wonder if I am.

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Tree Flowers

4 04 2011

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There are flowers on the trees.  Not brilliant splashes of color like the crocus in my garden, but deep red bunches, each individual bloom the size of a small pea, covering the ends of every small twig of these trees.  From a distance they might be mistaken for last year’s berries, not fresh growth announcing the birth of a new season after the death of winter.

Their under-stated beauty appeals to me.  While contributing to the cycle of life by eventually producing scads of those twirling helicopter seeds, each one is delicately radiant.  The rich red color that originally attracted me, covers the surface of a solid green base-every one a mini-powerhouse of activity adding to the high pollen count this week no doubt!

There are no showy petals like the tulips will soon wear in order to cajole bees to visit and provide transport for their pollen.  How are the tree-flowers pollinated?  I didn’t see bees on the branches or hear the steady hum that will soon surround our crabapple tree when every branch bursts into bloom.  I wonder if the wind does the work?

Spring winds, full of new warmth when the earth is still cool, blow life back into my soul while touching my cheeks with roses.  They blow away the soggy wetness from the melting snow and spring rains that washed off the filmy dust-dirt of winter, allowing the earth to be new again.

Soon the tree flowers will fall making rusty puddles on the path.  But today they are brilliant against the infinitely blue sky-simple, full of life, and beautiful.

Originally published on my old blogger site, April 2009





Windows wide open

13 05 2010

Spring came early this year with brilliant sunshine and temps that infused my achy bones with radiant heat.  Flowers burst into bloom; I moved my office outside and threw our windows wide open.

But on the way to summer, nature turned back into winter like Lot’s wife and got stuck looking in the wrong direction.  Temperatures slipped as the sun went into hiding; I closed the windows and turned the furnace back on.

This morning I’ve been at working with my desk light and several layers on- my winter modus operandi against the cold, dark, and damp.  After finishing up a contract, I opened the front door and stepped outside to take the outgoing mail to our box.  Windy warmth encircled me, making my hair swirl around my face in a mini tornado.  The sun even threw a couple of rays across the grass.

Back inside I laughed.  All morning I’d been shivering with windows closed and the thermostat set for 68, assuming the weather hadn’t changed.

Now every window is wide open.








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