Squill

Photo Credit: Jack Blueberry

Today, for the first time, I looked at a sprig of squill up close, in my palm. Humble, she bows her bloom, faces earthward. An indigo vein glows through the center of each lavender petal, no longer than my fingertip. Her silky hood covers pearl ovary, opal filaments, anthers offering pollen the color of cornflowers. Only by pressing her bloom to my nostrils could I smell the daintiest of fragrance: notes of grape, sweet lilac. In early spring, from a distance, multitudes of squill dye whole lawns lavender, violet, blue.

This microblog is part of a current series called “Grace-glimpses.”