I love when the crocuses bloom, because that means if spring hasn't arrived yet, it won't be long. The brilliant golds and purples with winter's drab grays as a backdrop remind me of those black and white photos that have just one thing highlighted in color.
There are the snowdrops, too, which are often before the crocus and they charm me with their ruffled white petticoats colored and dotted with spring green.
And who could resist the reticulated iris, drenched in the deepest purple, dotted white, and striped in gold? Their tubular petals hold treasures deep within, meant only for pollinating insects.
But nothing makes me happier than when the chionodoxas are in full bloom, carpeting the ground with glow-in-the-dark periwinkle stars. I don't think a single person has passed by my small patch of them on the south side of the house without uttering an "Ah-h-h."
Yesterday, as I passed by the home of a physician and his wife in a small town near us, I had to stop and turn around to capture a few photos of the chionodoxas in their yard. I've been past the house thousands of times, and have never noticed these before. They've had to have been there for decades, due to the size and density of them, but I was probably intent on getting somewhere and failed to look that way and notice their beauty.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Must . . . plant . . . more . . .