Crocus

I first heard of a Crocus years ago, while reading an article in The Saturday Review by Ace Goodman. The article was about facing difficulties, or dreary times and hope feeling faint. It seems that this tends to happen more often in Winter. There is actually a disease named for such winter woes; Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). SAD is a type of depression characterized by a recurrent seasonal pattern, with symptoms lasting about 4−5 months out of the year. (National Institute of Mental Health).

In the “dead of winter,” though not necessarily diagnosed with SAD, many folks do get in the doldrums —finding it hard to function with their usual joy and enthusiasm. Leaves are gone from deciduous trees, their bare limbs reaching to the sky as if pleading for cover and life. To go outside your warm house takes pretty strong motivation. And heavier than usual ice and snow can add to a melancholy feeling.

No wonder seed and plant catalogues arrive in the mail in the dead of Winter. The bright colorful pictures of flowers and shrubs bring hope that soon we can enjoy the beauty of outdoors. I often think of of Goodman’s description of the crocus, a harbinger of spring. To him, it was the sure promise of Spring to come . His wife had died during the previous year, a journey he had shared with his readers. The early blooming crocus awakened within him refreshing joy and hope—it does so for me as well.

When we moved to Atlanta, the house we bought had been owned by a nature-loving woman. We kept most of the shrubbery and landscaping—we wanted to see what plant surprises might surface over the next year—we had moved in early December. Our first night in Atlanta we were blessed with a few inches of snow. The ground already frozen, held on to the snow pack for days. It was beautiful, but troublesome. A few months later, as I walked along the driveway among the dead landscape, a glint of color caught my eye. It was a beautiful, tiny, purple (I learned later) Crocus. As it turned out it was the only one in our yard.

This beautiful, delicate Crocus was nestled within the pine bark, residual leaves, pine straw, and bare limbs of rosebushes. I paused to admire it; I found stakes to mark its spot—-to avoid overlooking it, small and close to the ground. In it’s own unique way this little Crocus was calling out to me, and the rest of the world; “take in this beauty.” There it was, a powerful splash of elegance, and a promise of spring.

Too easily, we pass by, overlooking significant beauty, miracles, and attendant joy in our journey. Jesus called attention to significant signals often along his journey—this time he called his disciples’ attention to a particular tree along the pathway. He paid attention.

© Copyright Willis H. Moore 2025