By the time those first flowers appear, the color has been leached out of the world for long that it hardly seems possible that there ever was a deep green the color of grass, a white as pure as a daffodil, or a pink as vivid as a rhododendron. For as long as I can remember, the world has been a weaker shade of bland: gray skies of mottled clouds, gray lawns pocked with barren gaps, and a cover of lifeless brown that blankets flower beds where last fall's leaves have gone unraked.
When the first green shoots poke through that dull and tepid mulch, it's like a kind word after a week of indifferent silence. And when a crocus the color of royalty bursts into bloom, it is the gentle touch of a lover's hand on your arm during the night.
Spring, which comes after a long and barren winter, is a miracle and a gift of God. Never fail to treasure it.
Copyright © 2007 by David Learn. Used with permission.
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