The Daffodil Principle
Several times my daughter had telephoned to say, “Mother, you must come see the daffodils before they are over.” I wanted to go, but it was a two-hour drive from Laguna to Lake Arrowhead. “I will come next Tuesday, “I promised, a little reluctantly, on her third call.
Next Tuesday dawned cold and rainy. Still, I had promised, and so I drove there. When I finally walked into Carolyn’s house and hugged and greeted my grandchildren, I said, “Forget the daffodils, Carolyn! The road is invisible in the clouds and fog, and there is nothing in the world except you and these children that I want to see bad enough to drive another inch!”
My daughter smiled, “We drive in this all the time, Mom.”
“Well, you won’t get me back on the road until it clears and then I’m heading straight for home!” I said, rather emphatically.
“Gee, Mom, I was hoping you’d take me over to the garage to pick up my car,” Carolyn said with a forlorn look in her eyes.
“How far will we have to drive?”
Smiling she answered, “Just a few blocks, I’ll drive … I’m used to this.”
After several minutes, I had to ask, “Where are we going? This isn’t the way to the garage!” “We’re going to my garage the long way,” Carolyn smiled, “by way of the daffodils.”
“Carolyn,” I said sternly, “please turn around.”
“It’s all right, Mom, I promise, you will never forgive yourself if you miss this experience.”
After about twenty minutes we turned onto a small gravel road and I saw a small church. On the far side of the church I saw a hand-lettered sign …
We got out of the car and each took a child’s hand, and I followed Carolyn down the path. As we turned a corner of the path, and I looked up and gasped.
Before me lay the most glorious sight. It looked as though someone had taken a great vat of gold and poured it down over the mountain peak and slopes. The flowers were planted in majestic, swirling patterns, great ribbons and swaths of deep orange, lemon yellow, salmon pink, saffron, and butter yellow. Each different-colored variety was planted as a group so that it swirled and flowed like its own river with its own unique hue.
Five acres of the most beautiful flowers I had ever seen!
“Who planted all these?” I asked Carolyn.
“It’s just one woman,” Carolyn answered. “She lives on the property. That’s her home.” Carolyn pointed to a well-kept A-frame house that looked small and modest in the midst of all that glory.
We walked up to the house we saw a sign…
There it was … “The Daffodil Principle”
For me that moment was a life-changing experience. I thought of this woman whom I had never met, who, more than forty years before, had begun – one bulb at a time – to bring her vision of beauty and joy to an obscure mountain top.
Still, this unknown, old woman had forever changed the world in which she lived. She had created something of magnificent beauty, and inspiration.
The principle her daffodil garden taught is one of the greatest principles of celebration: Learning to move toward our goals and desires one step at a time, learning to love the doing, learning to use the accumulation of time.
When we multiply tiny pieces of time with small increments of daily effort, we too will find we can accomplish magnificent things. We can change the world.
“It makes me sad in a way,” I admitted to Carolyn. “What might I have accomplished if I had thought of a wonderful goal thirty-five or forty years ago and had worked away at it ‘one bulb at a time’ through all those years. Just think what I might have been able to achieve!
My daughter summed up the message of the day in her direct way, “Start tomorrow, Mom,” she said, “It’s so pointless to think of the lost hours of our yesterdays. The way to make learning a lesson a celebration instead of a cause for regret is to only ask…
“How can I put this to use today?”
-Written by Jaroldeen Asplund Edwards