The Flowering of Gratitude

"A single crocus blossom ought to be enough to convince our heart that springtime, no matter how predictable, is somehow a gift." – Dr. David Steindl-Rast

I am horticulturally challenged, and horticulturally ignorant. We need to begin with that disclaimer. Most of the plants I’ve had in my life have had brief stays and finished their time on earth a deep brown. I can tell a daisy from a brown-eyed Susan, but please don’t push me beyond that. So when day broke warm and welcoming in Sleepy Hollow, New York on Thursday, I walked to the end of the driveway not on a floral expedition but in search of The New York Times. The Times was there, in its blue plastic wrapper, as always. But before I even got to it, my attention was grabbed by a small patch of dirt, not even six feet away, where a cluster of crocuses, mostly purple with a few yellows on the periphery, sprouted towards the sun, as if to announce:

Spring is almost here.

We all have our own signals of seasonal rhythm, our own harbingers of change. The annual, delicious mayhem of the NCAA basketball tournament (both genders) has been a treasured marker for me for decades. The early stirrings of the baseball season, via dispatches from Florida and Arizona, is another telling sign. For those who insist on being pragmatic adults, the onset of tax season cannot by overlooked, either.

But somehow, for me, crocuses have always had their own aura. They are a deeply underappreciated flower.  Daffodils, tall and flagrant, are way more popular, and tulips, with their multicolored majesty, are, too. Crocuses stay low to the ground, as if they are anticipating a March snowstorm (not unreasonably) and are gone not long after you finish brushing your teeth. But how glorious are they when they first sprout? If you live in a place where winter is a thing, you’ve spent the last three months hunkering down and bundling up and wondering if the gray will ever lift. Then the humble crocus, part of the iris family, pokes out of the ground and gives you a splash of color. After a long, gloomy drought, it provides an injection of hope – dare we say optimism? Is it a coincidence that eight years ago, almost 400,000 crocuses were planted outside the Smithsonian’s National Museum of African-American History and Culture? One of the core missions of the museum is to celebrate hope and optimism. What could be more optimistic than the sight of a flower near the end of winter?

It was a serendipitous gift to see the crocuses next to my driveway today. I hope they will be there again tomorrow, but who knows? I’d like to leave you with the wisdom of Dr. David Steindl-Rast, who I quoted at the top. David is 98 years old, and widely known as the “grandfather of gratitude.” He weighs in on much more than crocuses in this TED talk that has been viewed 10 million times.

I encourage you to give it a listen.

Yours in Spring,

Wayne