Crocuses

Why am I always surprised by the kisses of spring?

I'm in my basement the other day, sorting through the never-ending piles of laundry. [Why does it seem that dirty laundry never comes to an end when you have a one year old and a husband who is a carpenter?] I throw a white sock that direction, a pink shirt over there, muddy pair of jeans that way and something catches my eye. What was that? My brain takes a few seconds to process and I ask myself that question again. What was that? I scan the corner of the basement filled with left over dried up paint cans, cobwebs, an old dryer, a box of ugly baby clothes that need to go to the salvation army. What was that? To do's pile up in my mind...man, I need to clean up this basement. I really need to organize all of my gardening/seedling supplies. I really need to go through all of Audrey Anne's clothes she has worn from birth--infant/newborn, 3-6 months, 6-9 months, [and those mom's out there know there is no such thing as 9-12 months...why is that?]. I should really put together a garage sale with all this crap. And then I remember I saw something. What was that?

Scanning, scanning, scanning.

I suck in a gasp of air, recognizing what I was looking for. I feel shocked by this visualization before my two brown eyes. Unbelievable. How did this happen? Who cares. I love it and cannot take my eyes off of it.

Before me, on the cement floor in a shabby flat cardboard box lies 20-30 bulbs LoAnn gave me last summer to plant in my garden. I did plant A LOT of them and ran out of energy to plant the last "few". I figured I could put them in pots in the spring and line my back stoop with daffodils and tulips. Well, one these amazing creations decided to bloom on its own with no soil or water to boot.

Lying in the ugly box in my depressing and overwhelming basement was a sunshine yellow daffodil in full bloom smiling at me. Of course, I squealed and said "hello" in Shanel fasion. I brought it upstairs and just marveled at it's loveliness and determination to bloom.

Audrey and I went on a desperation walk this evening. You see, Audrey gets "cranky panties" every evening around 5pm. Stressing out her dad and making dinner preparation a drinking and swearing event. So, tonight, I put the rosemary sweet potato fries in the oven and swung AA on my hip as we headed outside into the warm air. Once loaded in the jogger stroller, we headed out on "a walk".

I used to go on these "walks" when AA was a pip-squeak. She used to have a horrible habit of screaming for hours at a time. Ivan and I were beside ourselves. I would take her out bundled in a flannel blanket, treasures made by my mom, and hold her close to me. It was always dusk and the little boys would be playing down the street. We would chat and they would teach me a few words in Spanish. I would move on. Walking down the little street that led to the hidden park of open expanse of grass. AA and I would stand there in that open field and I would teach her about the earth and the sun and the moon. And stars. She was always calm in the dusk, with the cool air brushing against her perfect dewy cheek.

I relied on another "walk" to aid me in managing AA angst. It worked.
We even went to the same open field of grass. We parked our big and little butts in the winter grass. She was very suspicious of this new walking forum. She especially didn't like touching the dry, seemingly dead grass with her delicate and ever curious fingers. We moved on.

We approached the walk going west on Ridgeland with the setting sun in our eyes. Sun soaking into us as we walk. And then it happened again. Something caught my eye.

There within a garden patch of ugly, and once again, seemingly dead remains of hastas, annuals, and straight up dirt, were the most becoming and absolutely endearing purple crocuses. Glee. I drove Audrey straight up to them and shared them with her. And once again I found myself experiencing surprise at the simple yet glorious kisses of spring.

Have we been living in Narnia or what?