Friday, February 11, 2011


We have no snowdrops in our garden. I keep meaning to plant them but forget. Remind me next October please. That means that the crocus is usually our first spring flower and sure enough in the past week they have appeared here and there. They come up in places I had forgotten about including in this corner of the enclosed rose and willow garden. Well it will be a rose and willow garden if the roses I pruned a bit too severely last year recover.

I tidied this up last year, it was one of the two project which had to be done in the garden. Yes that is a bicycle built into the rose bush trellis - it once belonged to my mother, then we had it and rather than dump it when it became too old I put it in there. A talking point.

Crocus poems are few. The Crocus, a poem by Harriet Beecher Stowe here.
Emily Dickinson was very fond of gardening especially of corms and bulbs. Here is a stanza of hers from this page:

The feet of people walking home
With gayer sandals go -

The crocus - till she rises -

The vassal of the snow -

The lips at Hallelujah

Long years of practise bore -
Till bye and bye, these Bargemen

Walked - singing - on the shore.

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