A crocus is a triangle, a tripartite creation. Until now, I had no idea. I normally look at crocuses from the side and see pretty purple, yellow or white flowers only a few inches from the ground, with petals expanding outward, vases in miniature. And note the plural. Crocuses are almost always plural, grouped in gardens or front yards, a low-lying little crowd of pretty.
The traditional view
The other day, I took an entirely different look at a crocus. I stepped up to one I had planted in the border of our front yard and looked directly down at it. I couldn’t believe my eyes. It wasn’t at all what I thought a crocus was. Its three perfect petals leaned gracefully out from the center, forming a miniature, three-lobed crown. Three smaller lobes, centered perfectly between the larger ones, added contrast, interest, balance. Set in the center of the crown, was a brilliant, gold-orange jewel, a perfect bud of pollen.
The jeweled crown in my yard
I couldn’t believe what I was looking at. My absent-minded viewpoint, a long accepted understanding of what a crocus plant is, or at least looks like, changed in that instant. I no longer see this flower simply to be enjoyed by the bushel. I now recognize each crocus as a perfect little treasure, a gift waiting for me and anybody else who takes a minute to look a little closer, a jewel that appears at the end of the bleak winter.
