A perfect Montana spring evening: The sun shines. The wind blows alternately gusty and gently. Young K. and her middle-school league team ardently practice softball skills. J. and I walk about the park and neighborhood environs.
“Look! What are those?”, says J.
“Crocuses”, says I, “and the first I've seen in this glorious gold!” “Take a picture!” says J, “Nobody’s home….”.
So I did. Actually, I took several.
And we didn’t get caught and stammer awkward apologies for crossing the driveway and sidewalk of strangers and crouching cozily at their front doorstep. Nor did we (as would be more likely) initiate chatty conversation to compliment their stunning flora (that pretty much hollered across the yard, "Hey! Over here! Yah, that's right, I'm talkin' to you....")
We just checked for a clear coast and walked on into the buffering breeze.
Entertaining story to accompany an exquisite photo. I wonder if the home owners will recognize their vibrant crocus?
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