Dreaming Daffodils

The wonderful bit of writing that follows was left as a comment in my recent #rawrlove post by my aunt Helen. 

A read it and re-read it and then asked for permission to give it the entire post it deserves. 


May 2, 2014

The rain keeps coming; the ground is cold and muddy, the air still cold.

I am dreaming daffodils

Digging in the ditch, dreaming a parade of dancing yellow daffodils,

I see them spreading their happy sunshine from our driveway to the corner two-thirds a mile on down the road

Contentedly I pried bunches of bulbs off the crowded clumps in my garden

The shovel made a wet, squishy, slurp as a section of bulbs tore with a crunch from the other bulbs
Water rushed into the hole

I was soon muddy, my red wheelbarrow soon full; the heavy, wet dirt on the clumps of bulbs made them stand upright in my wheelbarrow, like punching dummies with weighted bottoms

Each day the bright new leaves of the daffodils have been taller, my wheelbarrow loads greener and greener

Each day I have a longer trip down the road to ground yet undecorated by daffodils

A neighbor on a tractor tows his manure spreader to a field down around the corner; he raises an arm in a wide friendly wave

Does he wonder what I could possibly be doing, day after day, here in this wet, weedy ditch, with my shovel?

Digging in the ditch, dreaming a parade of dazzling, dancing daffodilsdaffodil in ropeThank you Helen, until Jenny and I manage to convince you to start your own blog you are welcome to post on mine anytime!