This is an excerpt from my Aunt Rosie’s book, Pioneer Potpourri. (Available on Amazon) She’s gone now but her writing still reaches out to today’s world. Please enjoy the varied skill of Rosalind Batterbee Bundy Westcott.
One March morning the flowers that lay beneath the leaves and the little seeds that had fallen the year before woke suddenly and decided they had slept long enough. ”It is time to awake,” they said. ”We must get out into the sunshine.”
“But,” said one timid violet, “what if we woke too early? Let’s send some hardy one ahead to see if winter is really gone.”
“I’ll second that,” spoke up Beth Lily. ”We will wait.” So they sent Spring Beauty, which pleased Beauty very much. He liked being the first flower of spring, for he knew he received special attention because of it.
So Spring Beauty stretched his arms above his head and pushed his toes deeper into the earth. Up on his toes he stood, stretching and stretching until at last his tiny hands went right through the surface; at once he felt the warm sun. Throwing wide his arms he pushed up and up until he reached his full height. Then, turning quickly to face the sun and opening his eyes, he looked around.
Yes, there was Miss May Flower, hiding beneath her own leaves as usual, just waiting to be called. May liked to be up early too, but she just couldn’t wake until someone called her.
May is a hardy girl though, a true northerner who doesn’t go below the ground to spend the winter but pulls her own leaves over her head and goes to sleep while winter winds blow. Then at first call she stretches her limbs and wakes in a moment. So May Flower is always second to arrive in the spring.
A warm breeze fanned the cheek of Spring Beauty, turning the leaves and melting the last bits of snow they hid. “Wake up, everyone,” Spring Beauty called. “Wake up. Spring is come!!!”
At once May Flowers stretched their heads above their leafy covers to smile at the world, and the green tips of Adders Tongue and Beth Lilies began to appear. Buds swelled upon the trees and tiny new leaves peeped out. The impatient Wild Plum did not wait for leaves to form but burst immediately into a beautiful cloud of bloom.
As the last banks of snow on the slopes melted and ran down into the valleys, soaking the roots of plants and trees in the pastures and woodlands, the West Wind whispered softly over the earth and the old autumn leaves that lay in repose rustled in their beds.
The brook that chattered and gurgled so pleasantly in summer, took on a new and deeper tone as it rushed along, carrying away the debris of winter and taking great bites of soil from the edges of its banks. Rumbling and roaring along, it gained more speed and power as it neared the valley. To any one listening it seemed to be warning the world to keep out of its way.
As the flowers grew, each one bringing forth its own beautiful blossoms, the woods and fields took on a new life and beauty.
But the flowers were not alone, for many of nature’s children came scampering from their dens, and high overhead their feathered friends and enemies fluttered and flew.
Yes, spring had returned to the Northland, each segment in its own way. And all things welcomed the SPRING!