I didn’t mind the winter this year. The snow began in December which is early for us. It was cold but the fields were blanketed in white for months and it was so pretty that I hardly noticed. I loved the coziness of wearing big, bulky sweaters, darkness coming early, making art, good books, fairy lights and soup simmering on the stove. Winter comes whether I want it to or not so why not just make the most of it? As the days began getting longer, however, my sweaters began to feel heavy and I forgot about the fairy lights and soup. I wanted to dig in the garden, give the horses a good bath and clean out the greenhouse to prepare it for planting. Most of all, I wanted the pasque flowers to pop out of the ground. They are the first to arrive in the parade of wild flowers that will cycle through the fields in the coming months. They tell us that spring has arrived and it time to put away the sweaters. Hallelujah. I’m ready.

Pasque flowers have always been a favorite of mine although, until moving out to my Little Ranch On the Prairie, I didn’t realize how long it had been since they had been a part of my life. Growing up, my dad used to take us hiking in the North Cascades and I would look for them in the mountain meadows. By the time the trails were clear of snow and we could hike, most of the pasque flowers had gone to seed. This was fine with me. In the Cascades their seed heads are thick, silky strands that hang straight down. They are elegant and snowy white with touches of minty green. I called them Cousin Its after the character in the Adams Family tv show and played with them as if they were dolls. Although I wanted to, I never brought them home because my dad always said, “What you find on the mountain belongs to the mountain.” I left them there and I’m glad I did.

One of the unique things about pasque flowers is that they can live for fifty years. I didn’t hurt the plant by pinching off the stem and turning it into a doll. In fact, it very likely bloomed again and produced more seeds. Had I taken them home they would have been lost and wasted. Now, I like to think not only of the flowers I had played with but also the generations that followed which still bloom every year in those mountain meadows. I think of the generations that had bloomed in those meadows before I found them, undisturbed by a little girl’s hands and imagination, and I’m glad I let them be.

When the pasque  flowers began blooming that first spring on the ranch I was so excited. I had no idea they had been living there quietly underground awaiting their moment or that there would be so many. The slope behind the north side of the barn was covered with them. They took the spring storms that swept through like the little warriors they are. No matter the speed of the winds or the depth of the snow, they would emerge from the melt flaunting the most brilliant shades of purple. They may look delicate but I never saw one that didn’t come through a spring snow looking more radiant than before. In fact, I think it’s fair to say those storms helped them thrive.

After the last snowfall melted I began looking for the pasque flowers. I started the search on the north slope behind the barn but they didn’t appear. Instead, I found them blooming along the fence that is on the west side of the pasture. If you look over that fence and across the fields you will see Pikes Peak in the distance and I could show you exactly where I use to live in Manitou Springs. Just before moving here I remember watching an especially brilliant sunrise from my backyard in Manitou and thinking, “That is where I am going.” I almost couldn’t believe it. It was a dream come true.

That was nearly five years ago and some things have changed, as they do. The pasque flowers aren’t a surprise anymore but welcome residents I look forward to seeing every year. As I go about my day doing this and that, I see them blooming along the fence line that divides east from west, what was and what is. I love both but right here and right now I am grateful to be living where the sun rises and the pasque flowers show up in unexpected places. I am home and spring is just beginning.