But see that little yellow dot in the snowbank? That’s a crocus.
Last spring, I had one lonely crocus in my long-neglected garden. Just one. And on the first warm spring day, the tiny yellow flower all but disappeared under a mob of hungry bees. Startled at their ferocity, I looked around and realized that nothing else was blooming. Nothing. Not even my beloved dandelions dared show a petal yet. And the bees were desperate for food. They had to find nectar or starve. And one crocus won’t feed a whole hive.
So last fall, I went to town on crocuses. I bought a bunch of crocus bulbs and stuck them in the fall mud, and hoped for the best. Planting fall bulbs is an exercise in frustration–I prefer immediate gratification. I’m the kind of gardener who buys tomato seedlings with little green tomatoes already on them. Even planting seeds tries my patience, waiting seven or eight days to get some action. Waiting seven or eight months is really torture.
But anyway, after a long cold winter, the crocuses finally got rolling. They poked up little green leaves and tightly rolled flower buds, and began to open up, and then bam! spring snowstorm. Buried in white.
But those little guys are tough. They don’t care. Snow, sleet, wind chill? Bring it on.