My husband announces the news: The daffodils are officially sprouting. That’s how warm it’s been here in PA. I’m in a t-shirt and flip-flops. It’s 62 degrees!
Up at the elementary school, some staff and I discuss whether the daffodils (which will surely die with the first snow coming most likely in January) will bloom again in spring. Have they been so thrown off schedule that we have no chance of spring blooms?
So I research, and I learn it’s true: Daffodils only bloom once a year. Then, they recuperate. They can’t bloom twice. (Maybe I’m wrong; please correct me!)
So that’s the bitter truth of it. This warm weather might just steal our spring beauty. But as I snap the picture and enjoy the sunlight on my face today, I remember that sometimes, that’s how the year goes.
Sometimes, nothing goes according to plan or according to the timeline, and that’s just what you have that year.
So maybe this season it was all wrong and strange. Well. That’s that.
But you aren’t left empty-handed. I know this: In May, we’ll look at the bare ground and remember that strange winter when mom wore flip flops and a t-shirt the week right before Christmas. We’ll remember, with acute awareness, how wrong it was. I’m thankful for these very things that keep me on my toes, that shake the routine right out of me, and that scramble up the order so I’m more aware and more thankful than I’ve ever been.
I’ve never cared so much about daffodils. For this, I’m thankful.