Scatter Me

March 2025 has been a miserable month. Cold, grey, and rainy. Today, much of the southern part of the province is recovering from a significant ice storm. After the winter we just had, March has been especially cruel. I count only one really nice day this month, and that is, quite frankly, depressing. March is supposed to offer hope amid the gloom. It has failed to make any effort whatsoever in that regard. Boo!

A half-hearted showing from the crocus.
They tried, but frigid and wet conditions (plus hungry
squirrels) kept blooms to a modest display. 

A few crocus have appeared, and my heart leaped with joy to see them. The flowers, however didn't stick around for long. They barely opened, and when they did, they were quickly devoured by hungry squirrels. I guess the squirrels had a rough winter, too. All this disappointment reminded me of a poem I wrote last year that features my beloved little crocus but whose subject matter is a tad sombre.

A hint of sunshine, but not enough to
coax the blooms to open.

Scatter Me

Scatter me among the crocus
when I’m dead and gone
Let me sleep among the flowers
singing springtime’s earliest song
Leave me be where I was happy
in the woodlands and the valleys

Scatter me among the crocus
when I’m gone

Let me sleep among the daisies
when my time is done
Rest in fields that stretch forever
gaze on skies that go on and on
Leave me be where life was easy
where I felt free and light and breezy
Let me sleep among the daisies 
when I’m gone

Leave me be among the clover
when I’ve seen my final dawn

Lay me down upon the green Earth
that gave so much so long
I have one last chance to nurture
to feed a lasting future
Leave me be among the clover
when I’m gone

Scatter me among the crocus 
when I’m dead and gone
Let me sleep among the flowers
singing springtime’s hopeful song
Leave me be where I was happy
in the soil on dirty hands and knees
Scatter me among the crocus
when I’m gone

A modest display

I hope that wasn't too dark. Perhaps lightening up the mood a bit is in order, so allow me to share this story. I don't remember what inspired this poem. I do remember humming a tune as I put words to paper. It was only after the poem was finished, typed up, and the "save" button selected, that I recognized a familiar cadence and phrasing. I'm pretty sure I wrote a poem set at least partly to the tune of "Oh, Susanna." I guess stranger things have happened.

More crocus will come. The best is still ahead of us.

Happy Gardening (once we eventually get there)!