Crocus

One of the first flowers to peek out in March, the crosus is usually purple but I like the white. I’ve seen it bloom and fill up with snow like a white bowl of vanilla ice cream.

The pink Magnolia is one of my spring favorites. It blooms even before the dogwood. We pack a sack lunch and go to the Muskogee azalea gardens to take it in. We have a special stone table and bench where we can watch the birds and butterflies, the fountain, and the children on the playground. Then I pull out my camera and record some of the prettiest flowers. The redbud holds purple flowers and the magnolia has pink cups.

The tulips are magical dancing on long stems the many colors bobbing in the wind. It reminds me of the spring song:

Little breeze from the south, You can sing though you have no mouth.

Little songs sweet and gay full of joy as a summer’s day.

All the birds and the beasties too seem to know that the winter’s through, and the grass, as you

pass, whispers low it is spring sweet spring.

The daffodils toss their heads in the warming sunlight and every day that sun shines a bit longer. Why do the daffodils come up year after year without any bidding? I see them on old homesteads where the house has caved in and is gone, clumps here and there where the house once stood. Some housewife planted them, and every year she watched for them to reappear out of the cold ground. She knew spring had come and she could plant her vegetable garden.

I love all the spring flowers best because of the blast of color promising thae winter is over and summer is coming just around the corner. The seasons all four are important and enjoyable in their own ways, but spring seems to be the sweetest.

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I went down to the oirchard of nut trees to see the blossoms of the valley, to see whether the vine had budded or the pomegranates had bloomed.

Song of Solomon 6 : 11

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