occupy places in our hearts well out of proportion to their size.
-Gertrude S. Wister
One of my favorite Norman Rockwell paintings shows a farmer in a bare, black, muddy field. It's dark outside and cold and very windy, but the man is huddled over a little, yellow crocus flower, shouting back to someone at the house, obviously excited about this first sign of Spring. I know exactly how he feels. Every year, when I see the crocus in our flower bed, before I can even help it, I shout to Norah, "Come and see!!!" After our color-starved winters, these lowly flowers are precious to New Englanders.