Spring to me has arrived when my small batch of crocus open their faces to welcome the sunshine on the south side of my house. They are my measure that the seasons have not deserted us, even when a few times each spring, their faces will hold a covering of snow. I suppose there is something profound in equating the end of winter with snowy white little faces, but I choose to ignore deep thinking and just enjoy them as I clean spring debris from the flower beds and clean my golf clubs for the new season.
This was taken one spring in the 1990’s.