Tag: spring blooms

Here Come the Flowers

K. Schall DeYong

It’s hard to believe that the freezing temperatures and snowfalls of February really were winter’s last blast, and yet, here we are. On the first day that the sun was out and the temperatures had crept back up into the twenties, birds could be heard twittering like spring had arrived before the snow had even thawed. And they haven’t stopped their chattering since—apparently they knew something we didn’t.

Over the past two weeks, the world has shifted into an early springtime. Snowdrops and witch hazel survived the freeze and were joined by winter aconite. Front yards and fields are dotted purple, white, and yellow with spring crocus. Delicate little scilla and spring snowflakes have made an appearance at the Missouri Botanical Garden. Daffodils and hellebores, the first of the more sizable flowers, have begun to open. Golden yellow Cornelian cherry dogwoods are blooming all along Magnolia Street in Tower Grove Park, and the very first cherry blossoms and magnolia flowers are just beginning to push their way out of the buds that have kept them warm all winter.

So move slowly when you go outside, and don’t forget to look down at your toes and up into the treetops: the first flowers are here, and there is no shortage of them. There will still be cold days, but now the hill has been crested: we are heading for the heart of springtime.

In Spite of It All, Springtime

K. Schall DeYong

An early spring comes as a welcome surprise in St. Louis. The past few years have seen cold, rainy winters that stretched deep into April, even into May.

And this year more than ever, we need the welcome color of the greening grass, the fragrant whisper of early flowers. The past weeks have brought nothing but sickening uncertainty for humanity as COVID-19 shuts down city streets, cuts off income, and takes lives.  We hunker down inside with our cellphones and frozen vegetables, but there is nothing more we can do.

There is freedom, though, in realizing that you are doing all you can–the freedom to let go of the rest. To step away from the constant sick count updates and to bake a loaf of bread. To slow your anxious heartbeat and to read a book.  And the freedom to step outside and take a walk and to see, in spite of it all, the fresh breath of springtime.

Already the magnolias and cherry blossoms are in flower, and many will peak this week. Daffodils sprout up in sunny bunches. Crocus, squill, and hellebores are in full bloom. The smell of hyacinths skips on the wind. Birdcalls we haven’t heard in months sound from treetops in the early morning light, and the sun sets later and later in the evenings. The buds that promise summer’s leaves nod in the breeze. Around them, our routines, our jobs, our systems all crumble. But new life marches on: the mourning dove now building her nest; a forecast full of life-giving rain; and the delicate petals of a tulip, just unfolding–each of these is a sweet promise for the dawn of a new morning.