Daffodils

I took a couple of laps around our 20 acres today. It was only 30-some degrees, but it was still a lovely morning. Fresh, clean, full of promise. I’ve learned that these outdoor tromps over the dewy grass and through the woods are heart-healers for me. So, when I can, I move my regular indoor cardio routine outside. The dogs love to explore alongside me while I enjoy the sunrise, birdsong, budding trees and whatever else God has in store for me. This morning, it was daffodils in bloom.

I don’t know how I had forgotten, but last fall I dug up a slew of daffodil bulbs from a front flower bed and relocated them. I planted them along our garden shed, around Fort Stumpter (our kids’ old treehouse) and off the sides of some of the paths in our woods. The sweet little things are blooming now.

It’s a balm to my spirit.

When I planted those bulbs, I did so in a hurry. I am a waste-not-want-not gal, and I couldn’t stand the thought of so many perfectly good daffodil bulbs going to waste after being dug up from a bed that needed re-worked. At the time, I was up to my eyeballs in tomatoes, peppers and apples while also trying to prepare our home (and property) to host our daughter’s wedding. I felt fairly overwhelmed, but I remember determining to plant some of those bulbs in a few areas with the knowledge that I’d be glad I did.

And I am.

At the time that I was planting those daffodils last September, I had no idea that my little sister would pass away in a matter of weeks. I had no idea how heavy my heart would be this spring. I had no idea how very much I would need to be reminded of good things.

I needed to be reminded of how my sister gave me those daffodil bulbs when my husband and I moved into our first home. I was pregnant with our first child, due in April, and my sister dug up daffodil bulbs from her flower bed and gave them to me with a card that read, “Maybe they’ll be blooming when the little one is born”.

As daffodils are wont to do, they filled in the flower beds nicely at that first little house. When we decided to move to the country, I dug up some of those sleeping bulbs and took them with us, planting them in a holding bed until we could get our flower beds dug around our new house. The bulbs were planted the following fall, and have been divided, shared and re-planted many times over the past 19 years. They’ve been cut for bouquets and used as backdrops for photos and put smiles on faces time and time again.

There’s an old saying about transplanted bulbs:

First, they sleep.
Then, they creep.
At last, they leap!

The sleeping is over and the creeping has begun. These little ones are adapting to their new places and will soon become happy, exuberant patches of sunshine throughout our woods and along our shed. Who knows how many hearts will be reminded of good things because of these sweet harbingers of spring.

I, for one, am thankful. I am thankful for some things I’d forgotten and for heart-healers along even the hardest paths.