It took four days to pile up. Three quarters of it was gone in one.
And when it was gone, there were more crocus there than when it began.
The scenic byway defines a very distinct melt line. Luckily I live on the sunnier side of things.
As the days continue to lengthen, the bulbs begin to get antsy. Their patience wears thin. They must grow despite the snows.
The next round approaches. The diagnosis is actually calling for a heavy snow this time. The bulbs will be buried again.