The grape hyacinths have pushed through the ground. As a child, I remember being fascinated by them. They always appeared towards the end of April (this is in Moscow of course) and, compared to the white blanket of snow that covered the ground for weeks on end, these tiny, jeweled creations undoubtedly caught my eye. I think it was their color and their shape. You see, they really look like grapes, grapes that are smaller than a pea. Each rounded part of this flower is perfectly smooth, perfectly purple and they all grow together to form a perfect, symmetrical spire. They fascinated me and they still do. They are a sure sign of spring, a promise of new life, an allusion of what's to come -- accompanied with copious amounts of excitement and anticipation. Each season is ushered in with new opportunities, new horizons and experiences from the seasons passed to aid in the present attack of what's right NOW. Between the grape hyacinths and the snow on the daffodils, spring has officially sprung. With the fresh season comes a fresh perspective on life and a more seasoned approach to things.
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