The snowdrop is first to break the winter’s spell, showing its dainty head for only a short while before it fades. Then millions of Scylla jump into life turning the ground blue in reflection of the sky. The pussy willows edge a pool of melted snow, looking like little baby kittens stuck in the bushes.  The daffy-down-dillies, spring up looking for the entire world like little lost ducklings. I listen hard, I faintly hear the bells on the ladders-to-heaven chime, or was it just the wind through the crocuses? Then all the flowers seem to bloom at once, one after the other, each trying to outdo the one before it in ether color or scent. Quiet little ground ivy skips up, his small flowers almost always over looked. White bindweed comes, only sharing her sweet flowers with the early morning bees before she snaps them shut not to unwrap them again tell next morn. The daisy, lady’s smock, and cowslip come, like three old pals that won’t be separated. In come the violets, in their purple and white coats, I pick dozens and fell my skirt to the brim.