There is a daffodil in the middle of my back yard. I see it each morning when I look out the window. I’m not sure how it got there. It wasn’t there last year. Somehow when the flower beds or the garden were being dug up it must have fallen there. It didn’t get buried the recommended depth under the earth. Yet there it is in full bloom. I think it’s the brightest one in my yard.
The daffodil doesn’t seem to mind being there all alone. I imagine it doesn’t see itself as alone at all. It is surrounded by grass, visited by squirrels and bees and birds. It has plenty of sun, which it reaches for every day strong and sure.
It brings a smile to my lips every time I see it. It is a beacon of pure yellow light. It surely doesn’t worry about what the other daffodils think. It’s not trying to make a stand on the issue of flower beds. It isn’t trying to outshine the other flowers. It found itself in new circumstances and it did what it does best in any circumstances. It grew. It grew to the fullness of its being. It is a beautiful, thriving daffodil full of color and light and life.
It teaches me how to be, not by teaching of course, but simply by being. Thank you daffodil.