The bulbs were easy to slid into the damp earth early last December, the month of persistent mist and drizzle. They’d spent the obligatory six weeks in the refrig to emulate frost. Direct from Holland, their purchase was commemoration of my seventh year of survivorship, an assertion of freedom from fear.
Daffodils are my emblems of personal hope. The cheerful harbringers of Midwestern spring have become a California celebration of my birthday in early February. This year the flowers did not disappoint – and continued to flourish through the months of February and March. Lots of varieties, some scented, all thrilled to – I am an avid appreciator.
After carefully surveying the several flower beds for blooms, I did the right thing a couple of weeks ago. I clearcut the greens so that all the plants’ energy could focus on regeneration of the bulbs. Just like in Holland, where we have visited several times.
Last Thursday, a new yard star emerged and on Friday, it came full flower. Tiny, but standing alert with its daffodil flag flying from atop a spindly stem. Striving, saying “I’m still here. I never, never, never give in”.
I couldn’t have chosen a better personal statement of fortitude and inner beauty, rising despite the cutting hands of humankind.
Happy Earth Day, everyone!