In Utah, the blossoming crocus is a sure sign that Spring is arriving. The crocus is the first to flower. They will be followed by daffodils in a couple of weeks, and tulips a couple of weeks after that.
You can see in the above that these crocus in my garden are coming forth among some old dried grass, a few old leaves from other plants, and a few weeds too. The crocus come when the snow is mostly gone, yet when the lawns haven’t yet turned any kind of green. When the fruit trees are just starting to think about budding, but remain mostly cocooned.
There is no tending of this crocus. They are so delicate, yet they just come forward. And I know that they won’t last long. I find the window here is about three weeks. But in that three weeks they signal a somatic shift for me. They make me smile. They cue my spring outdoor todo list that includes raking out the old growth, thinning the daisies, and trimming back the willow tree. They appetize me into the coming satisfaction of dirt under my fingernails and sore muscles that will need a soak after a day of yard tending.
Arrival is a ripe topic that I often find myself thinking about. With these crocus, I would want to explore the seasonal arrival that is us as people. It’s an invitation to notice birth, difference, or evolution.
But for today, I’m content with the smile that I feel, the joy that I feel, in seeing these delicate flowers arrive to accompany these days.