Years ago, I planted clusters of various Narcissus bulbs along the sides of our gravel driveway. I had grand illusions that these magical bulbs would form beautiful plants that rapidly multiplied to stretch in a never-ending line like the daffodils in William Wordsworth’s famous poem. Although this hasn’t happened the way I’d hoped, I’m thankful that I’m greeted each spring with a few more lovely blooms than the year before.
When the plants burst forth through the soil and flash their gorgeous green foliage, I remember the choice I made long ago to take an action that might create something beautiful for years to come. It was a risk. There was no guarantee the bulbs would produce flowering plants. I’ve experienced many failures with plants, and I certainly wouldn’t say I have a green thumb, so I knew going into it that my effort could be fruitless, or in this case flowerless. However, I also knew for certain I’d never see that line of daffodils if I didn’t plant some bulbs.
The picture above shows one of the flower clusters that grew from my long ago planting. Before taking the photo, I reached down to move a twig that was obstructing the view. Immediately, I felt the piercing stab of a thorn against my skin. It wasn’t a twig!
So, I left it alone and took several photos from different angles trying to capture the flowers without showing the prickly pest. I’m actually glad my efforts were unsuccessful because I like how the photos show the stark contrast between the delicate flowers and the spiky thorns, both coexisting in the same space. A symbol of spring, new beginnings, and beauty stands strong next to a symbol of pain and suffering.
This image reminds me of life. It’s not always a field of golden daffodils. Sometimes it hurts, but that doesn’t mean you can’t experience joy. The beautiful flowers are still there waiting for you. Sometimes, you just need to plant some bulbs first to see them.
