Here’s my first lonely crocus of the year. It popped up a day ago, rising above the brown and trodden grass. This morning, it refused to open in the damp grey air. It’s holding out for a few more rays of sun, and I can’t blame it. My daffodils, too, are sending up their first tentative shoots, but they’re still nothing but hope and promise.
And then there are my ornery pansies, under ice ten days ago, now stubbornly trying to bloom. They’re not a thing of beauty, are they? But that’s beside the point. The point is, they’re still here. They persist. Despite sub-zero temperatures.
Just because a metaphor is obvious doesn’t mean it’s any less true.