Just six inches to the right of this tiny hyacinth bud is a foot of snow. Down from the 18 inches that was there just a few days ago.
As I was stepping into my back door yesterday, this tiny speck of green, nestled up against my house, caught my eye. And I thought, yes, there it is.
Two days after the biggest snowstorm of the year, this little guy decides it’s time to poke his head above ground. And has the nerve to start growing. To believe, no, expect, that the sun will indeed rise every day and warm him, nurture him, help him grow.
He didn’t stop to listen to the weather, or the fact that it will probably snow several more times before it is his time to bloom. He didn’t shrink away from the mountain of snow that is already there, hovering just over his shoulder.
He chose, instead, to be an optimist.
The next day, eight robins landed in my yard. And I thought, this is crazy. It is too early, too cold for them, there is still snow everywhere.
Hope, again. Come home to nest for another year. Right in my own backyard.
I stood there and listened to its song.
And I smiled.