Beyond Daffodils …


Easter Sunday Daffs

I took this photo on Easter Sunday at my mother’s house. Currently, at my house, my daffodils have passed, withering beyond their peak, and will suffer the fate of the lawn mower, once my husband gets to them.

Spring is fully here, and most of the trees have gotten leaves, and have begun their growing season. And most of us, will ease into the routines of warmer weather, and longer periods of sunlight.

From there we will either grow, or be distracted. We’ll sink our roots deeper into being, and understanding, or we’ll get acquainted with flitting from thing to thing–like a bee rushing from flower to flower.

I love the daffodils, but I really enjoy watching how the trees meander through the summer days. First they blossom or tiny leaves come out. The leaves are impossibly light green, and fresh born. Then they take shape, and unfold. They spread out, and expand in size, getting richer and deeper in hue. Finally they look like unfolded umbrellas, but reaching upward to catch sun rays, or cup rainwater for insects. The wind blows, and the tree will seem to be tossing its new head of hair proudly, firmly standing its ground, and being.

It’s time to move beyond daffodils.

The trees of the fields will clap their hands.

How might you do it?

What are some of your thoughts lately?

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