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(Thanks Mystro for the idea for the post title.)
This photo was taken in roughly the same spot as the last flowerbed picture. Curse you, Alberta weather!
Yesterday, I was worried that the bulbs I planted last fall had died over the winter.
Today, it’s like Annie Dillard says in Pilgrim at Tinker Creek:
they say of nature that it conceals with a grand nonchalance, and they say of vision that it is a deliberate gift, the revelation of a dancer who for my eyes only flings away her seven veils. For nature does reveal as well as conceal: now-you-don’t-see-it, now-you-do.
These were simply not there yesterday.
Here they are today, coming right up through the snow.
And the more I looked, the more tiny shoots of green and red I could see, just waiting to spring into the light tomorrow. If it doesn’t snow.
bleatmop
Mystro
Dead Wild Roses 
Your opinions…