After the snow left, and I wandered through dark brown mounds of garden soil, searching for the tiniest bit of green to prove to myself that spring had indeed returned, I found something. Small tight buds of green pushing through cold soil, gradually fighting the cool temperatures spreading leaves, then forming buds, and finally unfurling flowers.
Hello Princes Irene, you lovely orange tulip bulb that we planted with such hope last fall… the cold wind nipping at our backs through the down filled jackets, and gloves. It was so worth it to freeze our fingers, shivering tense shoulders, shaking our arms to loosen up the soil. Your promise wasn’t broken in the snow… it was merely buried for a while.
And when I took your photo yesterday with the warm spring sun setting behind the trees, you glowed. You shone in the golden hour light.
You are so beautiful, lined up in a row, where we placed you as a sentry. Because we understood that you are there to herald spring. To announce like a orange trumpet that winter is truly over.
Your green leaves spreading upwards, capturing the warmth of the sun, your buds so far open they turn backwards, and then closing as the night advances.
Hello Irene, how have you been?