Based on those pictures of Gatineau Park, it might not yet be crocus season in Ottawa. But here in Burlington, the mercury is supposed to hit 18 C by the afternoon. Cole and I were working away with our spades in the dirt this morning in our T-shirts. And lo and behold, I have flowers!
So mark it on your calendars. This the fourteenth day of March (or perhaps even earlier) marked the beginning of crocus season in Burlington this year. I called Cole over from his sandbox to show him the miraculous purple flowers and his eyes widened and he exclaimed, "It must be summer!"
First I explained that spring has to come first, then summer. And then I said very carefully, "These flowers are called crocus'" all the while imagining how impressed some preschool teacher would be when he pointed at them in the school yard and said, "Crocus'!" A few minutes later, I said, "What are those flowers again?"
"I dunno," he offered.
"Crocus'. Think of a frog. What sound does a frog make, Cole?"
"Oh, yeah. True. Well, they croak, right? Croak. Crocus.... see?" I tried.
"Crocus," he repeated.
Twenty minutes later, we were peeling off our gardening gloves to come inside and Cole was delighting in all the finger "holes". I ventured, "Cole, what are these flowers called again?"
He looked up at the sky ponderously, "Frogs?"