My memory is officially shot, and I can better answer questions on what went down in 1997 (it was probably me) than what happened just ten minutes ago. Case in point: I recently took my daily regimen of pills at night, then promptly took another bunch just half an hour later because I couldn’t remember if I’d taken them before (luckily I’m only on baby doses of blood pressure medication and the rest are just allergy and Vitamin D and other nonsense). Yes, I would probably do well with a weekly/daily pill box for more than vacations now. But I digress, another sign of aging and forgetfulness, and the real purpose of this post was to examine the crocus you see so beautifully in bloom here.
It’s a bit of a surprise because I didn’t remember planting this corm – and in all fairness to me, it was a package of about 50 crocus corms, only one of which actually survived the hungry animals burrowing in the topsoil of our backyard a number of years ago. Yes, one out of fifty, which is why I don’t bother much with bulbs anymore.
As seen above, it is almost completely hidden in the brown debris of winter’s end, even with its striking purple coloring. I actually missed it the first time I walked by, only catching it on my return trip, and the reward was handsome. A few days later, the bloom was gone, eaten by the usual culprits, and another heartbreaking reason not to bother with certain plants at certain times of the year.
Thankfully, I captured it when it had just opened, and the fleeting nature of such beauty adds to its allure ad appreciation. A welcome sign of spring.
