Crocus Thoughts

Snow fell in the village in the wee hours of yesterday morning, no surprise at this time of the year. One may reasonably expect the long white season to lurk in the shadows and make unforeseen appearances until late April, sometimes well into May. I remember a not so long ago year when snow and a killing frost wiped out our newborn veggie patch on the first day of June, and we had to start over. 

When winter finally retreats, the woods green up rapidly, and within a short time the whole forest is carpeted in bloodroot, trilliums, trout lilies, tiny hepatica and violets. No quiet and subtle entrance here for Lady Spring, but a loud, triumphant fanfare and running footsteps, an explosion of shaggy green leafage in local hedgerows, a riotous, profusion of spring blooms bursting forth, almost within minutes.

In my sleep last night, Beau and I wandered along in a cloud of wildflowers and lacy green ferns, listened to a throng of  grosbeaks singing in the overstory, watched an osprey hunting over the Clyde river. Sigh, early days yet. Dreams will have to sustain us for another several weeks—at present the woods are a realm of deep snow and inky blue shadows, and so they will remain for quite a while.

I think wistfully of putting my hands in the warm dark earth of the garden with a trowel, but the place is still three feet deep in snow and so it will be for a while. For now, potted tulips and crocus thoughts will have to do.