Thursday, March 7, 2013

Crocus, Spring, and Writing

I love flowers, but also the plants, the botany, and both their and my responses to the seasons, so somehow a garden scene of some sort shows up in my books. From my experiences and emotions about changing seasons, I hope I insert metaphoric meaning using gardens. Most of you, I am sure, have already had spring emerge where you live, but here in Northern Michigan, mounds of snow cover my garden, and although I had Snowdrops at this time last year, we had four more inches of snow yesterday. More is expected today. So I wait with hope for the promise of spring, just as I wrote in my first novel, Magic Aegis:

The garden looked beautiful even under the snow. The gray stems of parterre shrubs seemed to form a cleaner pattern, its framework more distinct. The hard work of pruning them had provided visual results. Swaying branches of the fruit trees, striated in smooth bark, created moving mosaics on the clear blue sky. Patterns in the wall were picked out with bright snow and the air held a frigid scent of promised renewal.
With fresh resolve, she rose at long last and shook the snow off her cloak and skirts. A bright color unseen at the side of the bench caught her eye. A small purple and yellow crocus bud emerged from the snowy blanket. The sight cheered her. Beyond the wall she heard crows cawing, and feeling different somehow, she left the garden.

Hope your spring has sprung. I’m waiting.

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