Each year the US Navy Blue Angels perform at Seattle’s Seafair in August. We live just under the northeast turn point where they group up to return to “center point”. This photo was taken from my back yard.
Representative of “scale” on several layers, this tiny, delicate flower contrasts with the large, sturdy rock it cozies up to. And its brief life is an infinitesimal percentage of that of the immutable stone.
They are perhaps a bit more spectacular when poking their heads through a blanket of icy snow. But they are a heart-warmer, whenever they appear.
The Crocus by Harriet Beecher Stowe
Beneath the sunny autumn sky,
With gold leaves dropping round,
We sought, my little friend and I,
The consecrated ground,
Where, calm beneath the holy cross,
O’ershadowed by sweet skies,
Sleeps tranquilly that youthful form,
Those blue unclouded eyes.
Around the soft, green swelling mound
We scooped the earth away,
And buried deep the crocus-bulbs
Against a coming day.
“These roots are dry, and brown, and sere;
Why plant them here?” he said,
“To leave them, all the winter long,
So desolate and dead.”
“Dear child, within each sere dead form
There sleeps a living flower,
And angel-like it shall arise
In spring’s returning hour.”
Ah, deeper down cold, dark, and chill
We buried our heart’s flower,
But angel-like shall he arise
In spring’s immortal hour.
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 rise our heart’s dear flower
Both of these photos were taken on a rainy, overcast early morning at fields near Mt. Vernon, Washington.
The Image of a Tulip
rising so quickly
they grow so fast
The image of a tulip,
of a crocus, a daffodil
must be in the heart of each cell
coming from the earth
rising so well
In mere moments
growing so quickly
rising from the winter
rising to the sun
from the earth
to the warmth
of the new day
—Raymond A. Foss