For five years, from 2010-2014, I wrote a tiny crocus-sized poem every year when I first spotted crocuses. One of the surest signs that spring is starting to at least inch its way forward, I've always found those first crocuses a beautiful bit of brightness and hope.
When the sweet girl was little, she and I would take walks and be "spring detectives" on the lookout for all sorts of clues that spring was on its way. In our urban setting, we sometimes had to hunt pretty hard (like cracks in the sidewalks!) but we always knew that sometime in February, we could head over to a house not far from us and find a patch of crocuses in their side yard. It got to be a kind of game. I would count how many I could see, and that number would make its way into the poem.
I don't know I missed counting crocuses in 2015. Last year, in 2016, I can understand completely how I missed it -- I was in intensive chemo, sleeping nearly round the clock when I wasn't in pain or feeling sick, and not getting out for walks.
This year, still battling cancer in various and different ways, and still tired, I am thankfully walking better and have at least moments of better energy. And when we had that warm spell last week, I determined to get out for a walk on one of our rare sunny days. I wasn't even thinking about the crocuses, but I did ask my husband to drive us over to the seminary (closer to our old stomping grounds) so I could walk around the area I walked for twenty years. I mostly needed to see the trees that had become such good friends during all that time.
The sweet girl decided to come, so it turned into a family stroll (that's a nice way of describing my turtle pace these days) and we were heading down a certain sidewalk enjoying the beauty of the day when suddenly it hit me.
Late February. Warm. And we were only a block or so from the crocus house.
"Crocuses!" I called out, almost involuntarily.
"Yes!" My fourteen year old said excitedly. "We've got to!"
I love that kid. And her dad. So much.
So we crossed the street and headed for the crocus bed, which we could see even from a block away was just a riot of purple. There were tons and tons of crocuses in bloom -- a bit late to play spring detectives, but I didn't care that we were late to the party. This year I really, truly needed that riotous bunch of mostly purple (a few white) flowers, with their lovely yellow eyes looking as happy as little suns.
So much life! No way I could count them! So here's this year's little poetic offering.
So many crocuses, too many to count!
An awesome, amazing, abundant amount!
Thank you, dear God, for warm winter weather
and life that blooms bright in bounteous measure.
If you want to see the other five crocus poems from earlier years, just click the "crocus" tag at the bottom of the post, and it will direct you to the older postings.
Blessings as the Lenten season gets underway!