The (Used to Be) Annual Crocus Post

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.

(EMP, 3-2-17)

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! 

Happy Spring! Annual Crocus Poem and HB to Robert Frost

Last night I was walking onto the seminary campus around twilight. Some of the trees there are in full bud, looking as though they might burst into bloom any day in spite of the still very cold temperatures. I was marveling over the buds and also a lovely birds' nest tucked into one of the branches, when snowflakes started to drift down. Clearly winter hasn't quite gotten the memo about letting spring really start...

But start it has, and I'm grateful. Spring means several things (besides wished for warmer temperatures), including my precious mom's birthday -- she turned 82 last week -- and my parents' anniversary. This year it  was their 60th, an amazing milestone that had our whole family celebrating and feeling baskets full of gratitude for days.

Today is my own birthday, and despite the continued cold temperatures and my ongoing cough, congestion, and plain old tiredness, the gratitude continues.

The sweet girl and I spotted the first crocuses of the year more than two weeks ago, but I didn't get around to writing my annual crocus poem until last week, and then I never had a chance to post it. I thought I would celebrate today by keeping up this tiny tradition:

Seventeen crocuses bright in the cold,

Their petals so purple, their yellow hearts bold.

Though winter decided to have one more fling,

It couldn’t quite stop the onrush of spring.

~EMP, 3/19/14

If you want to see some of the crocus poems from earlier years, click on the "crocus" tag below the post.

And don't forget to read some Robert Frost poems in honor of his birthday today too. He's a tad bit older than I am, born in 1874. I think he's looking pretty good for 140! 

The Third Annual Crocus Poem

For the past two years, I've marked my first sighting of crocuses with a tiny poem. Our afternoon walk yielded this year's first sighting of a clump of purple beauties. So here is this year's small poetic celebration!


The sun threw a party
for my winter-tired eyes.
Thirty-one crocuses popped
up and yelled "surprise!"

~EMP, 2/7/13

The Annual Crocus Poem

I woke this morning to a long, beautiful, spring-like rain and some lovely silver light. And to the happy knowledge that we had crocuses in a tiny green vase on the kitchen table.

Yes, we spotted our first crocuses yesterday (and the sweet girl found a patch that looked as though they were growing wild/belonging to no one, so I let her pick a few). The first crocus spotting is always cause for deep rejoicing in my soul. It's also cause for a crocus-sized poem. Here's this year's.

Happy leaping today!

*****

Thirty-two crocuses dressed up for spring
are clumped in a chorus and ready to sing.
Their melodies burst from deep inside.
Their golden throats are open wide.

~EMP, 2/28/12

*****

Crocus Sighting

Twenty-two crocuses make my heart sing.
Their small purple cups set the table for spring.

EMP 3/8/11

This could get to be a habit. I posted a spring snippet last year when we saw our first crocuses. Nineteen of them that time, and spotted on March 11. We're three days earlier this year, and spotted three more flowers. Somehow that feels like a cheering sign!

Spring Song

Dogwood buds, birdsong, and nineteen crocuses.
One wonders, in spring, how anyone focuses.

~EMP, 3/11/10

I know it's technically not spring yet, but the weather certainly seems like it! And so the snippets of spring poetry have begun to bloom in my journal...