When I was younger and we were living on Burke Circle the sweet yellow flowers lined the ditch at the end of our short, stub of a driveway. They also sat at the trunks of the trees that separated our house from Mr. Hamp's. Mama and I would pick them together every Spring. I vividly remember our flower-picking escapades being followed by mudpie-making sessions. I never understood why they were called mudPIES. You eat pie. You do NOT eat mud, at least this little Miss Priss didn't. I get now that it's figurative, but that was so weird to me as a little girl.
Anyway, back to Daffodils. As I have grown older, I think I have just started loving them that much more. I love when I see them, because I know Spring is a' comin'. I love when Patrick pulls over on the side of the road so I can swiftly yank them out of the ground outside Post (oops!). I also love when he brings me sweet hand-picked bouquets of them from his yard. Don't get any ideas...he's taken! ;) My only issues with Daffodils are that they come and go way too fast and they don't last very long once you pick them. Most of all, I love them because they remind me of my childhood, my Mama, and just home in general. Home will always be where my heart is...I am grateful for the foundation it has provided and the love and confidence it always gives. Daffodils remind me of this blessing.
Now I just want to go run through a meadow of them and sing and dance...
|courtesy of Rocky Mountain Gardener|
P.S. I like the bright yellow ones better than the pale yellow/whitish ones.
P.S.S. That picture makes me think of a Lord Byron quote..."On with the dance...let JOY be unconfined!"