Just under the first of the three maple tress in our front yard, about five feet from the mail box, there is a gift. They show up every spring just as I'm about to lose faith that the snow will stop and warmer weather will come. Just when I've convinced myself that we've entered a new ice age, a small patch of pale purple Crocus emerges from the cold, soggy, leaf-littered ground. Shoots of green emerge and little blooms open wide towards the sun. They are brave, these tiny little reminders of warmth. The push up through cold hard earth and bloom in still freezing temperatures. Each spring they remind me that life is hard, but not impossible.
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