It is a tradition that we hike up the hill to see the thousands of daffodils when they bloom.
We did that this evening as our supper cooked.
It is a magical spot, high above the river.
There is no home there now. The house got moved down the road a ways. Only the daffodils remain.
Blooms in every direction.
Those folks must have felt like they were on top of the world, watching the river flow by below.
It is a dream. A daffodil-filled dream.
Flower
I look forward to their arrival every spring. They appear weeks earlier than any of my other daffodils.
Those tiny golden twins. Like little suns on stems.
These are the bulbs I share more than any other, ‘Tete-a-tete’ miniature narcissus.
They were given to me by my mother in a pot many years ago. My children were small. My garden was new and neglected.
Yesterday, I told Mama about her Tete-a-tetes blooming, like little baskets of gold, all over my yard, her yard and my sister’s yard. She smiled.
If I were to choose only one daffodil, which would be difficult,
it would be these early, tiny twins.
FLOWER
I am notified that spring is near not by sight, but by scent.
I planted an Edgeworthia shrub on the bank below the deck. The breeze lifts its scent up to my window.
You must bend to see the faces of these miracle blooms.
I cannot tell you how joyous it is to smell the scent of spring.
It is sort of a creamy gardenia that reminds me of a Chanel powder puff mixed with Cool Whip. I know that mixture makes no sense.
When I cup a bloom in my hands I envision my Little Girl Blue bottle of perfume from Avon that I had as a teen.
Bright yellow clusters with green centers and a delicious scent.
How could I not love this shrub?
FLOW
I am thrilled by any sign of spring. I am grateful for every early flower.
One of my Camellias, ‘White by the Gate’, has burst into bloom.
These blooms are perfectly symmetrical and make my heart sing.
The blooms are irresistible. The leaves must also be hard to resist.
You guessed it. The deer are here chomping on most things green.
Therefore,’ White by the Gate’ is now “white in a fence.”
Daddy’s windmill is standing guard as an additional deterrent.
Deer tracks are everywhere.
Fear not! I have a plan. Stay tuned.
FLOW
I would buy this if I could. I want someone who can appreciate it to buy it. It is not a showplace…it is a homeplace.
Google the address if interested.
FLOW
It is going to be hard to play pioneer woman when I have a barge parked across the river.
It is a constant reminder that change is coming.
It is time for me to accept this and adjust.
I am still here, so are the deer.
This is the new normal.
FLOW
Maybe I did not realize the deer had feathers,
Or maybe I thought it would not matter.
But it has mattered.
The deer is lovely, but its feathers have caused problems.
Anytime the deer moves or is held, it sheds a few little feathers.
I not only have to dust for dust, I have to feather dust.
I have wondered if my son’s sneezes are related to the deer and its feathers.
Sometimes when I am trying to be patient, it turns into tolerance, procrastination. and passiveness.
Today is the day I will start tackling the issues that I have tried to ignore.
I started with the deer and its feathers. The feathers went in the trash. The deer got a new pillow.
One less irritation in my life and on my couch.
Do you have a deer with feathers?
What are you ignoring?
GO FLOW!
The barges grumble as they glide up and down the river.
Sometimes they carry things. Sometimes they are empty.
The river is like their road or rail, only it moves. The flow may help or hinder their work.
I watch the traffic from my perch on the hill. Standing still as they pass, but feeling the same wind.
FLOW
When the fog is thick
I cannot see beyond the trees.
I hear sounds of things
moving on the river.
I imagine how sailors at sea felt
floating blindly while hearing
sounds in the fog.
FLOW
floweralley 