It's finally here!! That much anticipated, highly coveted, first day of Spring. Now, living in San Francisco, it doesn't represent exactly the same thing it did growing up in New England, however, it is still my favorite time of the year. Everything just has a brighter aura...colors are lighter, faces are glowing, people are outside - living. Back East, mud puddles flow through the streets, children buy their first pair of white tennis shoes for the season, and green pervades once again; life slowly emanates from every dead branch that previously plagued us through the winter. As much as the New Year is hailed as the time of "new beginnings", spring seems to reinvigorate life, simply by being sprung.
For me, crocus will always mean that I can exhale...winter is over and the sun is enticing me to play, to shine, to live. Consistently, and as surely as the sun will rise, two tiny little crocus pushed their way through the hard soil outside my childhood bedroom window each Spring. At the same time every year, right around my Birthday (which falls at the beginning of Spring), I eagerly awaited the day that I could look out my window and finally see that single purple and single white crocus flourish from their bulb, leaving me tingling with sheer delight at the first sign of their arrival, skipping outside to greet them.
I find comfort in the fact that I could revisit my childhood home today and still see those hardy, beautiful beacons of life spring from the ground; as if we lived in a timeless world where nature soothes our souls and consistently reminds us of its resiliency. Whether spring brought with it a snow storm or the sunshine, somehow, those hardy little crocus never let me down. I am confident those beautiful flowers will keep up their miraculous cycle, and bring joy to some other lucky child, long after my time on this earth has passed.
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