This time of year, I’m obsessed with daffodils. Maybe it goes back to my Midwestern roots. I spent most of my life in southern Indiana where winters are cold, drizzly, and gray. During winter, the glorious deciduous trees of autumn are bare and stark, the luxurious green lawns of summer are brown and muddy, and cabin fever rages.
It was the worst time of year for those of us in the teaching profession. The period between winter break and spring break seemed to go on forever. Indoor recess had lost it’s charm, students were restless, and teachers were weary.
When my husband and I moved our family to a house in the woods, the kids and I planted daffodil bulbs on the hillside behind the house. Each dormant bulb held the promise that spring would come. We couldn’t wait to see the first green shoots springing up form under the leaf mulch in the woods. When the hillside burst into bloom, we knew winter days would soon be gone. Each year, I would gather a large boquet and bring it inside.
Daffodils remind me of my grandmother. They were her favorite flower though she called them jonquils. I like to call them that too, though purists say they are both in the Narcissus family, however there are slight differences.
But what’s in a name? My grandmother’s name was Josephine Marie. She preferred to go by Marie, but allowed Grandpa to call her Josie . “..a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”
Currently, I live in the Southwest. There is an abundance of wildflowers blooming in the desert this spring, but sadly, no daffodils grow here. I was thrilled when a friend brought me a bundle of of spindly little stems in pre-bloom stage she’d purchased at Trader Joe”s. As per her directions, I snipped off a half inch from each stem and put them into some water.
Now, my kitchen counter is glowing with yellow blooms! I know they are short-lived, but for now I am enjoying the burst of spring, the reminders of Grandma, my Indiana home, and the end of winter.
But I think it’s deeper than that. Perhaps , for me, these bright yellow blooms bursting from dormant bulbs and spindly stalks give me hope and courage. Their blooms are fleeting. Their message lingers.
Threads of Thought
To those of you still in the throes of winter, hang in there! Spring is coming! Watch for it!
