The Daffodils Bloom

Spring and hope are not cancelled. The daffodils bloom.

David died two years and a half years ago of lung cancer. He was a nurturer and landscaper and it showed. He loved trees, lawns and all manner of plants. The first time I visited the home he shared with his wife, Angela, I knew without looking which home was theirs. The lawn was the lushest and greenest of any on the block. It was nurtured and loved.

By the end of his career, David was spending most of his time at a desk rather than on the grounds he loved. As a gardener, I can only imagine that this separation from earth would have been challenging.

After he passed, a tree on campus was dedicated to his memory. His spirit of love and hope endures in the memories of those he loved, those he encouraged as a supervisor and in the fabric of the campus itself.

When Angela returned to work, she was presented with a pot of daffodils by a caring co-worker. The smiling yellow orbs were meant to shine and to cheer.

Eventually, the bulbs were passed on to me. By then, they were spindly and yellowed, but retained life at their core. I planted them in the earth in front of my home.

The bulbs grew but did not bloom last season. They needed more time. This year, in life’s changing landscape, they bloom again. David was gardener and he was an optimist. The blooms are gifts to remind us of hope and of David’s love of the earth.

Patience is sometimes needed. New flowers form only when the time and conditions are right.