Goodness knows there are many things to love about daffodils. They are harbingers of spring, although this winter has been the eternal spring for all practical purposes. Regardless, their bright pops of yellow dotting lawns and roadsides are welcome.
But one of the things I love most about them is that they are place markers for times gone by. I love to see them growing along a roadside, or where a house once stood, and know that at some point, someone took the time to plant and nurture them. Perhaps a young wife making her first home, or a harried mom with only a few moments to spare, or an elder still creating beauty.
Regardless of how they were started, they cling to life amidst grass and weeds, clearly stating their own right to exist. In the process they boldly mark a place that in another time hosted other lives. Although no one ever talks about it, daffodils are one of the things people leave behind when they go.
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