The crocus is the advance guard of spring, the first flower to poke through the snow to see what’s going on above the surface. One can imagine that it gives the all-clear to the daffodils and sends a pollen text to the cherry trees. To celebrate the appearance of the crocus, Walker Ferrell has recorded an album of the same name, chronicling the first 24 hours of a crocus’ existence on the very first day of spring.
This may be Asheville, North Carolina’s Ceremony of Seasons most ebullient release to date. Inspired by Miles Davis and John Coltrane, Ferrell captures their playful energy and injects it into a single flower. One cannot help but remember Baby Groot dancing to “I Want You Back;” simply imagine him as a crocus.
To accompany the release, Ceremony of Seasons has bottled a particularly pleasant aperitif wine, “Like a Thick Tapestry of Motion,” tinted yellow by saffron, extracted from the dried stigma of the crocus, with additional appearances by mint, star anise and ten other infusions. From the moment the bottle is uncorked, it smells like spring, a bouquet of aromas, from orange to cinnamon, even pineapple (although pineapple is not included and it may just be suggested by the color). There is a lot of detectable spice, so much that for a couple minutes the scent alone provides satisfaction. One can hold the glass beneath the rose, every breath bringing a new sensation.
And then that first sip, lined up to coincide with the crocus’ first buds and the tape’s first sounds. The spring rain is falling upon the earth, releasing its own aromas. Droplets fall from branches to buds; then the first major chords, like seeing sunlight for the first time in months. Ripe fruit lies lightly upon the tongue, already ripened, a taste, but also a foretaste. After a static blast, the tempo increases, reflecting the moment when everything is suddenly in bloom. The little crocus is looking around; there, she has spotted the sun! A quick burst of piano notes, and then a series of bright, major keys, slowing down at the end, content; there will be photosynthesis.
When the music begins to bubble and pop, one thinks of all the action taking place beneath the surface: the unseen activity of seed and root, the highways of insects and worms. What was frozen is now beginning to thaw. And then that bass: no wonder the track is titled “Earth Action!” When cuing the cassette to coincide with the wine, one begins to feel the body warm from the center to the limbs, just as “Snowmelt” celebrates the warming of the earth, the leaves poking through the earth and stretching their arms.
By “A Snail’s Journey,” one’s mood has continued to lift, aided not only by the wine, but by the snaps and taps of spring percussion. One thinks, “I am drinking the crocus; therefore, I am the crocus.” The snail is slow, yet persistent, like the gradual effect of sipped alcohol. Soon there will be “Mushrooms and Grass,” reasons enough for the snail to travel. The modular synth dances as if sun-activated, while “Beanstalker/Garden Twilight” transfers the energy of an arcade to a garden. For now, though, the crocus continues to be the hero, the trailblazer, the trendsetter, unafraid of mowers (for there are none) or cold (for it has learned to survive) or solitude (because it enjoys being first). After all, there will be other crocuses. When the music shifts again to a music box timbre, one remembers that the word nursery is used for plants as well as for human babies.
Many minutes have passed since that first sip. Now we are beginning to detect lime, which was advertised, yet hidden, like the shyer, more reluctant flowers. It was there all along, undetected, like the promise of spring. The music is now so active that it cannot be put back into the box, just as the warmth of alcohol can no longer be returned to the glass, nor the flowers returned to the earth. Even in the middle of “Night Life,” percussion flourishes like an eruption of shoots on the first dappled day. The little crocus is asleep, but with a difference. Last night she was waiting to burst through the soil; this night she is already above the surface, having traded round-the-clock darkness for cycles of light.
The cassette concludes with “Crocus Pt. 2,” wrapping back around to the beginning. The track begins as a happy lullaby, with an active, effervescent background. The rain reenters the frame, which leaves us with a sense of relief; the little crocus has food and drink and will survive another day. Every day there will be a little more light, accelerating as the earth moves closer to the sun. Soon the crocus’ worries will be gone; soon the whole earth will awaken. (Richard Allen)
Spring Equinox Bundle Available Here
a closer listen 