Osler's Razor

I am really hoping for flowers. I'm hoping for those little bursts of color. We may not deserve them, but we all get them for free.

My parents are great observers of flowers. They are the kind of people who spot a flash of color in an empty lot and immediately focus in on it. I'm always amazed at that ability, especially when the rest of the empty lot is full of trash and abandoned vehicles (which is not really so uncommon in Detroit).

There is still a big pile of slushy snow next to my driveway. It erodes a little each day, but at this rate it will be with us until August.

Maybe, in fact, this is the hardest time in Minnesota, not the dead of winter-- that period when you just want spring with all of your heart, but what you get is that slushy, blackened pile of snow by the driveway.

When I was a kid, sometimes I would plant flowers with my mom-- pop them out of the little containers, dig a tiny hole, and usher them home. I so clearly remember holding the tiny plant in my hand and saying a prayer for it-- for flourishing and health and color. That, that's spring... and I am not feeling it yet.