By Ashlie Miller

“Daffodowndilly”

By A.A. Milne

She wore her yellow sun-bonnet

She wore her greenest gown;

She turned to the south wind

And curtsied up and down.

She turned to the sunlight

And shook her yellow head,

And whispered to her neighbour:

“Winter is dead.”

Though Wadsworth’s “Daffodil” poem is more well-known, I love the last line of this children’s verse by Milne. Daffodils are among the first buds I notice in my neighborhood, at times pushing up defiantly through small banks of snow. Unlike many other flowers that would perish under such conditions, this hardy yellow maiden perseveres.

It has endured and is ready to make its appearance, signaling hope, joy, and healing—inspiring thoughts after a long, cold winter. What a welcome presence the jonquil is!

Early spring can bring out the best in us as well. Weekly, I take my youngest children to a local park to meet other homeschool families for a time of play. Families we have not seen in weeks (or even months) come out when the weather warms, eager to absorb vitamin D while reconnecting after weeks apart from each other. We re-form our bonds over shared stories and laughter, while recounting stories of surviving less-than-ideal times in recent months. We have lived through rough days, and here we are, ready to start anew, much like this hardy narcissus.

Daffodils offer a paradox of being toxic to animals but potentially medicinal for humans (extracts are used in treatment for Alzheimer’s and certain cancers). It reminds me how God’s Word meets hearts, either hardening the hearts of those already rejecting the message or melting the hearts of those receptive to the healing balm.

Many landscapes incorporate a few bulbs of daffodils, but at times, you can find fields of them that have multiplied over time, even nestled in wooded trails like those in Daffodil Flats (Linville Gorge). I recently saw a clump of them growing under a tree alongside a busy road. They seemed out of place with a large commercial building looming in the background. I wondered if they had been planted by a family in another time. I have learned that they bloom for up to 50 years in a field, and bulbs can survive for over a century! What longevity, what story!

Take some time this season to ponder what lies ahead of you by looking back at what you’ve endured recently, celebrate the healing, hopeful winds of early spring, and wonder at the continued cycle of life, hope, and rebirth.

Ashlie Miller delights her children by placing daffodils in colored water. You may email her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.