Some years the crocus barely stir. Spring comes too slowly for them — or too fast.

They are not the only flowers that have their moments, their seasons. The forsythia might flourish one spring, the azalea another. Doubtless it’s a combination of air temperature, rainfall, soil warmth and wind that makes their colors just a little more vivid, their flowers more plentiful.

Or maybe it’s simply a matter of taking turns. Each year is one plant’s chance to shine. Who knows? If all of them shone at once the splendor might be too much for us, might blind us with spring beauty!

So this spring it is the crocus’s turn. They are popping up out of cool soil in places I don’t remember planting them. Slender stems, unassuming flowers, herald of all the blooming that lies ahead.