There is something magical about the clump of crocus, a bright sunny yellow with strong, green stems which has pushed its way up and through the last layer of snow, now dirty with month’s wear. A spot of hope, a reminder and a calling card that Spring her self, with her fresh rain and warm rays is not long to be now. Earth slowly rotating on her axis, turns her back to Father Winter, ready to embrace and be embraced by Spring, the mother of renewal and life.
The snow, when it first fell was full of wonder and light, a perfect magical blanket shrouding Earth’s features in a downy blanket of wonderment. Now months have passed and the blanket has been scraped and piled high to make room for the passage of living and it has become dirty and unwanted. Spring will send her rains, cold with the last vestiges of Winter’s reign, to wash away the indignity of his end, leaving the yellow crocus breathing a smile to those who take the time to look down.
