Long ago, when we lived on the east coast, one of my favorite trees was the pussy willow. I loved the puffy little buds on the bare branches that popped up in early March.

Living on the Texas Gulf Coast now, we don’t see pussy willows anymore.

That doesn’t stop me from pulling out my artificial stems with fuzzy catkins, sticking them in a vase, and remembering the legends.

One Native American story tells of a rabbit that climbed to the top of a willow tree one particularly snowy winter. Tired after his climb, he nestled into the treetop and slept the winter away. He woke with the spring thaw and bits of his fuzzy tail clung to the tree. From that day on willow buds feature a tiny bit of fur in honor of spring bunnies.

Another popular fable is the Polish tale of riverside willows saving a family of drowning kittens.

When I taught I shared the stories with my students, then had the kids create catkin cotton balls on sticks and draw pictures of kittens on willow branches.

Whatever the true story behind the little catkin buds, I do miss seeing them. Pussy willows were the first sign of winter’s thaw and always welcomed.