A few days ago I walked into the "plant room" with the morning's brew in hand and found this blossom unfolding. I went back 10 minutes later and it had opened to this, it's full glory, shining in the gray, pale light coming through the windows.
By sundown, the blossom was shriveled and done. The small blooms of the walking iris don't last long, but the plant blooms in early February, when I hunger for color. And more blooms will open.
For one more day I resist despair that winter will not end.
Tips of daffodil leaves, a little yellow from the cold, push their way up, seeking light. Crocus leaves rise a few inches from the soil, like tiny thin fists of resistance. Cold air and gray skies cannot keep them asleep. And I resist the winter light by knowing that bright yellow, vivid purple, and blinding white blossoms will soon appear.
Winter does not last forever. Its end is coming.
Stand up in resistance to the cold and gray. Turn your face in the direction of the Sun. Resist that urge to remain curled up beneath the soil. Stand up and...
Blossom.
