March 21, 2026

Crocuses or Croci

I don’t know what to call them, but there they are, spears an inch tall, piercing the earth. Soon they will be tipped with flowers, purple and yellow. Nearby a chipmunk explores a rock wall. Lichens appear. Patches of moss. What else is waking up beneath the frozen floor? There are tiny frogs that literally freeze themselves to weather the winter. Some beetles do the same. Moles and mice eat them. The leaves of the rhododendron spread wide to the south, its buds like the penises of babies, and the wands of the willows are turning green. The beavers have been really busy up the creek gnawing down trees and changing its course. Their teeth are like chisels. Its banks are studded with chewed stumps. The dams are growing larger. It’s cold outside, but, still, how can we not call it Spring?