It turns out that our yard is full of buried treasure.

We moved here in July, long after all the hallmarks of spring had come and gone. Ever since then, I'd been thinking about putting new things in the beds come March or April. It never occurred to me that there might be anything lurking in there that I hadn't already seen. Especially since the yard's been buried under chestnuts, leaves, pine needles, branches or other debris since October.

Now, though, there's stuff poking up everywhere. Crocus. Vinca. Tulips, maybe, or daffodils; maybe both. And something that looks like it might bloom into a hyacinth. The grass is barely growing; I'd never have guessed the ground was harboring secrets. The attic is, but its secrets are loud and sound like mice. I like the flowers better.

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