In blue and yellow from its grave
Springs up the crocus fair,
And God shall raise those bright blue eyes,
Those sunny waves of hair.
Not for a fading summer’s morn,
Not for a fleeting hour,
But for an endless age of bliss,
Shall raise our heart’s dear flower
Harriet Beecher Stowe
To walk out in the garden. To close your eyes and simply breath the smell of spring. Then to discover the magic of blooming crocuses. A wonderful surprise for these were volunteers. It makes them doubly precious. A thrilling gift that brings a bit of happiness to ones day. Spring is indeed here. Oh Joy!