The crocuses are blooming.
Through several inches of snow, hardy purple blossoms peek, their stiff green leaves waving like soldiers' spears, flanking the more delicate hearts, their little yellow tongues sticking out of the centers in brash defiance of the weather.
March means spring is coming. The crocuses have decreed it.
Flowers have always struck me as possessing singular personalities. Sunflowers bow their majestic heads like sleepy sentinels every summer, no matter how tightly we tie their woody stalks to the corner of our red brick house. Irises flagrantly flash their faces, something so lush it is almost obscene alongside the flamenco dancing tiger lilies. Daisies are sweet children, delicately waving in gaggles while daffodils are courtly gentlemen, the footmen to the roses' cinderella coaches.
I often think of my friends as flowers, their personalities emblazoned on their petals like the bower outside my summer window. Erin, an army reservist would be a cone flower, her self-reliant center prickling at the slightest provocation, but surrounded by the soft beauty of vulnerably pink petals. Amanda the pharmacy student is a tulip: resilient and perky with the good sense to come to the party early but bow out before the crowds descend, a sunny smile always ready at her core. Shannon, the London fashion student is a peony for sure, a solid core bursting into lushly shocking hues, as sweet as she is patient and forgiving.
And me? I'd like to be a crocus, the first pioneer to burst through the soil into the gathering sunshine. Scornful of snow and frost, I'd like to poke my head blinking into an environment hardly ready to receive me, blazing forth to proclaim the first foray into springtime. Crocuses are brave and stubborn, standing strong even when the birds shiver from the freezing nights.
Let the other girls be simpering violets, delicate daisies and bleeding hearts. Give me the spring flowers, holding up under the toughest times. Call me a crocus, the bearer of good news. Spring is coming. Just dig away the snow and ask the flowers.