This Is My Day: Trespassing for Daffodils
I trespassed today. I really did.
All these past weeks I’ve been waiting for spring to come and take away the grey vastness of winter. And when the warm sunny days finally arrived, I realized we had no spring flowers.
On Sunday we drove to my sister-in-law’s house. All the way there I kept staring at people’s daffodils, hyacinths and tulips, “Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.” I wanted to pick them, smell them, and let myself get intoxicated by their fragrance.
Today, as I was rounding the last turn on my usual walk around the lake, I saw them. They were out there in somebody’s yard, surrounded by tall grass and dry sticks, no cars, and no people around. I didn’t think twice. I trespassed.
Now I have these amazing, bright yellow daffodils in a vase, decorating our dining room table. Every once in a while I go back there and take a look at them. They are so pretty, even in the darkness.
How can something so little, and so ordinary, bring so much joy? There is something about spring flowers – so simple, yet so intricate – that cannot be put into words. It’s like they signal a new beginning, a re-birth, a fresh and fragile start. Wordsworth had it right.
Now, if I could just get hold of some hyacinths….
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