There’s a house in my neighborhood with a rather unusual lawn. Each spring, for about a week, the entire yard is a carpet of tiny blue flowers.
If you think it looks good, it smells even better.
. 
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
I’ve been struck by this lawn year after year, but today I finally stopped to take a closer look. While I don’t know the flower’s name, it looks to be a type of snowdrop or other early spring bulb. Once they’re done blooming, the grass takes over lawn duty for the rest of the summer.
I can’t begin to imagine how many of these tiny bulbs are in this lawn. It’s not a small lawn to begin with and, even if some of these flowers volunteered off shoots over the years, someone took the time to start this magnificent lawn by planting hundreds, even thousands, of tiny bulbs.
I love to garden, but that kind of patience flabbergasts me. Because, essentially, all that work is for one moment in the spring. One moment that may very well be ruined by rain or snow. A moment that can’t be held on to. In a few days, they’ll be gone again.
What would I give for a blue moment like this?
Photos taken today with iPhone.