Hope Springs

Edited: the post, below, reflects our gardening ignorance. The entry was written before it occurred to us to do a quick Google fact check, at which point we learned that what we thought was Grandma Eleanor's yellow primrose is actually a yellow winter aconite. Whatever. We're still gonna go with the message we thought the flower was delivering.
Surely you can forgive our amateur gardening skills and still appreciate the point we thought we were making...
Plus, that same quick Google search said something about bright aconite petals, juxtaposed with barren earth or snow, making for a potent visual metaphor - a tough little sprig of a plant overcoming winter, life overcoming the threat of death. Maybe our mistake was meant to lead us to that idea as well...

We've tried to transplant Grandma Eleanor's yellow primrose several times. We've divided plants and taken starts from Mom's yard, and Jan's yard, and we've introduced the cuttings in various parts of our own garden. Never has one survived.
Several days ago, on the very day we received some long-hoped for good news, Andy and I both, upon separate passings, noticed this tiny primrose peeking through the leaves overflowing from our compost pile.
And it was like Grandma Eleanor was sending us a message:
It's spring now, and hope has sprung.
And we heard her, loud and... well, not clear but bright yellow...

Celia Eleanor, sporting Grandma Eleanor's primrose behind her ear (Spring 2008)

JEB