Friday, January 30, 2009
Good morning, Sunshine!
After a week of gray days and fog and drizzle and rain, this morning, here at the very tip end of January, I discover that first little harbinger of spring.
Pushing up through the dead brown leaves, springs first crocus waiting for just that moment in the sun to bring forth their cheery goodness.
For all the years that I have lived here, the spring bulbs have been a delight.
I've planted them with my aunts, who tended to increase the bulb population by dividing them and by sharing with other aunts and uncles the abundance of their divisional nature.
Past a certain point, every third or fourth year, bulbs get crowded together and their size and beauty decrease, unless they are reset. Sharing them increases their beauty tenfold.
I've planted them with my children who wielded their garden tools in all seriousness and for whom the lessons of bulbs and seeds mingled with the faith that these bulbs, planted beneath the earth would, with warmth and sun and water, come up and bloom year after year after year...
I've forced my long-patient husband to dig and move and replant for more than 25 years now. (He's a keeper!)
I've planted them in solitude, when the earth is quite cold in the late fall, knowing that the spring will hold that breathless surprise, no matter how many years this drama unfolds.
Crocus come in many colors, cream and white, purple and lavender, and several shades of yellow. The earliest ones here on the farm are these yellow ones. The color of sunshine and spring.
What a treat!