Siberian squill -- that’s the name of it. I looked it up after I saw this wondrous ground cover that’s blanketed front and back yards. It is a type of grass with a blue flower and it was just there, suddenly, a sign of spring, and it has sprung! It’s a kind of pop-goes-the-weasel in the plant family.
I took to a trek in the Rosedale area out under the sun like so many others. I noticed the flowers everywhere—a plant pandemic of sorts.
While things look gloomy on the social side. I personally push for cheery optics in the course of my walks. There they were—a sweet blue and green togetherness. When you see it all around, you can’t help but get excited to some extent.
One other sign of rejoice that’s happening in our neighbourhood, on Roxborough west, is the 7:00 o’clock clap and clang session. People are coming out of their homes, beating pots and pans, and clapping palms together. It’s applause for the medical performance in the combat of the notorious corona. My own cynicism tells me it’s hard to believe that our street can find cohesion, and party in a way, together, but it’s happening. Maybe some mantra added to the mix would be nice.
Our cook at the ashram, Dwarkanath, is just turning out miracles from the kitchen, which is another good sign of hopefulness. Try lightly sautéed asparagus. Or Brussel sprouts and mixed veggie stir fry. Then there was his Chana, a chickpea delight. The monks and I ate it, read from Nectar of Devotion and then the musically inclined want for mrdanga drum lessons. It all started with the Siberian squill.