Prompt Week 13

Nothing says spring like daffodils in my book. Every year it happens the same way: it’ll be a day like any other. I’ll be getting in my car, or taking out the dog or just opening the door and suddenly, where the day before there was nothing, there is a beautiful, little patch of daffodils across the street all golden and soaking up the sun. In the days immediately following, the buds start to appear on the trees and the lilac bushes start looking more alive than dead.

Daffodils signal spring cleaning both indoors and out. They signal that that time is nigh for my camp list and for the unpacking of spring attire. They bring confirmation that winter REALLY isn’t coming back and it’s safe to contemplate the fanciful days of summer.

It takes all of my reserve not to cross the street and pull them from their home to bring them into mine. Every year I say that I’m going to plant some in my square foot of yard so that I can have them on my table the minute that they blush with their blooms. Instead I settle on waiting for the rogue lilac bush that has insinuated some of its branches into my yard. One year, though, I am going to go get those daffodils. Maybe this year…it’s not over yet. Besides, they have a crowd, a host of golden daffodils. Surely there’s enough to share.