I think the coming of spring is an exercise in patience.
Winter drags along, reluctant to leave. It seems the most early signs of spring are so very small, one has to get down on their knees to view them. And the effort is always worth it.
Sweet scilla follow the snowdrops and crocus . . . and gives hope, there is more to come.
They are such happy little flowers, shouting down winter with their brilliant blues.
I don’t really remember planting them, but I know I must have sometime in the last 30 years of living here. What I do know for sure, is that I did not scatter them around the yard and in the grass. That was most likely the mischief of squirrels.
Every year I find more of them and in new places, which is more than fine with me. Their sweet presence quietly touches the soul, cheers the heart, and sings of things to come.