I didn't even notice that the crocuses were coming up. My attention was, daily, riveted on the daffodils beside the front door, slowly, steadily developing. We went to Cambridge for the evening to visit Toronto friend C. (and, unexpectedly, D. as well), and there, scattered across the muddy green of the Backs, near the river, were crocuses and snowdrops in first bloom, the first flowers of my spring.
The daffodils keep developing, always more slowly than I expect. It's Reading Week, and C.'s taken the time off too, so errands take me by the front door and those still-green flowers regularly.
Leeds, a trip to the heart of the city, and all is stone and paving and buildings. There are gardens in the city center, but we didn't visit them. We return home and there, just beyond the still-not-blooming daffodils which have held my attention all this time, the crocuses are starting to show their color. It's a lovely surprise.
In Canterbury, and my precinct pass for Canterbury Cathedral and grounds has come through. Thanks to the good graces of departmental secretary A., I hardly had to lift a finger to obtain it. I'm thrilled. In a fit of excitement, I think it the best job perk ever. In the precinct, bare branches and vines twine against the cloudy sky. On the ground, the crocuses are in bloom, vivid clusters of purples and yellows.