Earlier this month I blogged about the rhododendron, plant of danger. But because the weather was so lovely today here in Chicago (despite recent snow!), I could smell spring, and I knew that the crocus and tulips would be just around the corner. So I consulted my Language of Flowers tome once again; the tulips mean love, of course (although the yellow tulip means hopeless love, which is rather sad), and the crocus stands for mirth. According to Pamela Todd, "They moved Homer to declare, 'The flaming crocus made the mountain glow,' and Greek myth tells of a beautiful youth, named Crocus, who was consumed by the ardency of his love for the shepherdess Smilax, and was afterwards metamorphosed into the flower."
That's all for today, although I also blogged at Poesdeadlydaughters.blogspot.com about psychology in mystery.
