The first crocuses (croci?) peeping up through the cold earth and the detritus of autumn give one a hint of the soon to be blossoming of life all around. This lonely lavender struggler appeared in a barren and well trodden path, and seemed to me to be the essence of hope against heavy odds. The golden fellows showed more discretion as to where they were popping up.
Tangentially related – I was listening to a new-to-me Bach cantata and marveling how Bach could have churned out such infinitely exquisite and unique beauty, when a soprano voice blossomed from nowhere out of a tangle of violas and recorders – much like the mysteries of spring awakening. It was a transporting moment.
The cantata, by the way, was “Tritt auf die Glaubensbahn” - perhaps a precursor to “The Gospel train’s comin – Get on board, little children!”
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