Easter, even though it is early this year, nevertheless always carries with it the promise of new life, renewal, along with family gatherings focussed on religious and food traditions.
Every year, as I walk up the driveway of my mother’s house in the early spring, I cheer up a little and smile with amazement at the beautifully resilient crocuses once again providing a fragile yet undeniable sign that winter and cold are almost gone.
A way to think of it is that crocuses are the rainbows of spring: while they last, they are a delicate, almost magical sign of hope. Like a rainbow, unexpectedly appearing above us as a shower moves through, crocuses rise in the midst of winter’s garden debris, letting us know that warmth and vibrant colours are returning. Every year I smile inside at their impatience to lead the way. More importantly, they, like rainbows, are a reminder that hope must never be abandoned. “Here is that rainbow I’ve been praying for/It’s gonna be a bright . . . sunshiny day.” (I Can See Clearly Now)
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