My daffodils. Every year they begin to poke their little heads out of the ground in February. Some years they go so far as to fully bloom in the middle of winter only to have a major dumping of snow plopped on their beautiful, cheerful, bright yellow skin. I can't even remember when I planted these bulbs, but the tulips I planted with them stopped coming up years ago. The daffodils, much to my pleasure, refuse to follow suit.
For a number of years now, only a few of these narcissus beauties have bloomed. I've tried dividing them, planting them deeper, fertilizing, and massive mulching, but nothing I did resulted in more blooms even though the plants themselves seemed to multiply and take more ground. I'd pretty much come to the conclusion that it was time to dig them up and start over with fresh bulbs.
Then came the long hard winter.
Sleet, snow, and ice along with below normal temps abounded for a longer-than-normal length of time this year. February came and went without the slightest sighting of my yellow friends. Since I usually tell them to get back down when they peek through too early, I was proud of them. They'd actually listened to me this year.
And when they finally decided it was time to make their appearance? It was well worth the wait! They may not look like much to you, but I'm pretty sure I have at least ten times the normal number of blooms.
Each time I look at my daffodils, I'm filled with hope. Excitement even. I think, Maybe it's not just daffodils that need a long hard winter to thrive come spring. Maybe our souls need one as well. Maybe the years of soul-tiredness, years of asking, "what is wrong with me,?" and years of doing without the passion for it are really just years of a long hard winter, years of God working in the dark, cold soil beneath the surface, where we can't see, where nothing at all seems to be happening. Maybe those are just years of preparation. Years that, come spring, will produce gorgeous, abundant flora.
For a number of years now, only a few of these narcissus beauties have bloomed. I've tried dividing them, planting them deeper, fertilizing, and massive mulching, but nothing I did resulted in more blooms even though the plants themselves seemed to multiply and take more ground. I'd pretty much come to the conclusion that it was time to dig them up and start over with fresh bulbs.
Then came the long hard winter.
Sleet, snow, and ice along with below normal temps abounded for a longer-than-normal length of time this year. February came and went without the slightest sighting of my yellow friends. Since I usually tell them to get back down when they peek through too early, I was proud of them. They'd actually listened to me this year.
And when they finally decided it was time to make their appearance? It was well worth the wait! They may not look like much to you, but I'm pretty sure I have at least ten times the normal number of blooms. Each time I look at my daffodils, I'm filled with hope. Excitement even. I think, Maybe it's not just daffodils that need a long hard winter to thrive come spring. Maybe our souls need one as well. Maybe the years of soul-tiredness, years of asking, "what is wrong with me,?" and years of doing without the passion for it are really just years of a long hard winter, years of God working in the dark, cold soil beneath the surface, where we can't see, where nothing at all seems to be happening. Maybe those are just years of preparation. Years that, come spring, will produce gorgeous, abundant flora.
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