Purple Joy

Henry ran to put on his sneakers while exclaiming, “The sun is out! It’s like summer!” His little gray and yellow Velcro shoes waited patiently by the door to enjoy another adventure. Henry pushed his little feet with mismatched socks into the shoes and said, “Look Mom! I can do it! They are on the right feet!” I glanced down and smiled, “They are! Great job. Let’s go!” As I grabbed my red vest and slipped my arms through it, Henry was already pushing the door to the garage open and running ahead. I followed him out the door at a much slower pace, this wasn’t my first warm March day, I knew what to anticipate. I also feared any insects that also decided today was a good day to come out. He ran through the cool garage and out into the bright sunshine and heat of the driveway.

I stood on the lawn looking around at the mostly brown yard, my eyes searching for anything flying or buzzing around. The yard was brown, muddy and barren aside from the one shiny metal bucket we had hanging from our maple tree collecting sap. The grass hadn’t been charged long enough from the sun and moisture to turn its lovely shade of summer green. The trees were still naked from their loss in the fall and the mud from too many bike rides on the soft lawn in the recent week had found its way to the driveway. I walked until the sun hit my face and I felt all four of the seasons at once. The warmth and sun of summer, the sight of the melting snow of winter, the smell of wet autumn leaves and a robin looking for worms in the spring, all converged on my front lawn. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Henry ran around chasing the dog as she barked and then he shouted, “Mom! Look! Hurry!” he was near the house and I knew exactly what he had found. Henry was appropriately wearing one of his birthday gifts—a black t-shirt that read “Top secret spy”. He would sneak around the house with sunglasses on and his t-shirt and I had to pretend I didn’t see him. A small gray cardboard briefcase accompanied him on his “missions” and he deemed a pair of black sweats pants with a white stripe down the side, his “spy pants”. His mission outdoors was not planned yet he still managed to uncover a hidden secret in the yard. I turned around and I was right as I saw the tiny, purple, delicate blossoms peeking up through the brown mulch. “Mom, these are so pretty! Who planted these?” Henry couldn’t believe his eyes. I agreed and said, “Henry it must be spring if these have shown up!” Right away Henry said, “I need to water them! I’ll be right back!” He ran to the garage and grabbed the green watering can. “Henry, they are ok. The snow has been melting so they are nice and wet still in the ground.” Henry’s little head hung low and he said sheepishly, “But I don’t want them to die.” I replied, “Don’t worry, they won’t!”.

Henry and I stood in awe admiring their beauty and color they brought to the yard. I had found these same beautiful signs of spring and promise almost exactly one year ago. They had appeared on a similarly warm day and I was disappointed to see them that day. I wasn’t ready for spring to begin and for winter to be over. I had taken a picture with my phone and posted it online commenting, “Does this mean the ski season is over?” And added a laughing emoji. My shadow was cast over them in the photo but it hadn’t dulled their brilliance. The darkness had only made them stand out more. I had no idea that not only the ski season would be over but that it was the beginning of life as we knew it being over, at least temporarily. The next day my children’s school would be closed for the rest of the year and masks, quarantine and temperature taking would become daily words and habits in our lives. The purple petals had signified a beginning in nature and a new beginning in the lives of most of the world. It had marked a day of change and re-birth for some, and sadly an ending and chaotic time for others. The tiny reminder of mother nature had been unexpected as we hadn’t planted them nor had I remembered seeing them the year before.

Henry circled the blooms and continued to comment on their beauty. “Mom, can I pick them? Will the bees find them here? Are you sure they are ok? They look dry!”.

“Henry, they will be ok. We will keep an eye on them but they are a natural part of the yard and can take care of themselves and no you can’t pick them!” I responded getting exasperated from all of his inquiries.

Henry stood leaning up against the house, bending over slightly to try and get his nose closer to the tiny purple growths. He removed his sunglasses and put them on top of his head the way that I do. His whole five years on earth seemed to be more like fifty with that movement. His eyes widened as he commented, “Oh Mom! They smell so amazing!”. I realized in that moment I had never actually bent over and smelled those purple buds in all the years I had seen them show up in the spring.

Finally, I said, “Do you know what these are called?!” Thinking for some small reason he might know the name for a crocus. Henry said proudly and loudly, “Yes! They are flowers!” I laughed and said, “Well, yes, you are right!” I didn’t bother to tell him the proper name, he just kept staring at their wonder and I soaked in his moment of fleeting innocence.