The Daffodil Principle **Fluff**

[Guest guest]

The Daffodil Principle

> >

> >

> > Several times my daughter had telephoned to say.

> > " Mother, you must come and see the daffodils before

> > they are over. " I wanted to go, but it was a two-hour

> > drive from Laguna to Lake Arrowhead. Going and coming

> > took most of a day--and I honestly did not have a free

> > day until the following week.

> >

> >

> > " I will come next Tuesday, " I promised, a little

> > reluctantly, on her third call.

> >

> >

> > Next Tuesday dawned cold and rainy. Still, I had

> > promised, and so I drove the length of Route 91,

> > continued on I-215, and finally turned onto Route 18

> > and began to drive up the mountain highway. The tops

> > of the mountains were sheathed in clouds, and I had

> > gone only a few miles when the road was completely

> > covered with a wet, gray blanket of fog. I slowed to

> > a crawl, my heart pounding. The road becomes narrow

> > and winding toward the top of the mountain. As I

> > executed the hazardous turns at a snail's pace, I was

> > praying to reach the turnoff at Blue Jay that would

> > signify I had arrived. When I finally walked into

> > Carolyn's house and hugged and greeted my

> > grandchildren I said, " Forget the daffodils, Carolyn!

> > The road is invisible in the clouds and fog, and there

> > is nothing in the world except you and these darling

> > children that I want to see bad enough to drive

> > another inch! "

> >

> >

> > My daughter smiled calmly, " We drive in this all the

> > time, Mother. "

> >

> >

> > " Well, you won't get me back on the road until it

> > clears--and then I'm heading for home! " I assured her.

> >

> >

> > " I was hoping you'd take me over to the garage to pick

> > up my car. The mechanic just called, and they've

> > finished repairing the engine, " she answered.

> >

> >

> > " How far will we have to drive? " I asked cautiously.

> >

> >

> > " Just a few blocks, " Carolyn said cheerfully.

> >

> >

> > So we buckled up the children and went out to my car.

> > " I'll drive, " Carolyn offered. " I'm used to this. " We

> > got into the car, and she began driving.

> >

> >

> > In a few minutes I was aware that we were back on the

> > Rim-of-the-World road heading over the top of the

> > mountain. " Where are we going? " I exclaimed,

> > distressed to be back on the mountain road in the fog.

> > " This isn't the way to the garage! "

> >

> >

> > " We're going to my garage the long way, " Carolyn

> > smiled, " by way of the daffodils. "

> >

> >

> > " Carolyn, " I said sternly, trying to sound as if I was

> > still the mother and in charge of the situation,

> > " please turn around. There is nothing in the world

> > that I want to see enough to drive on this road in

> > this weather. "

> >

> >

> > " It's all right, Mother, " She replied with a knowing

> > grin. " I know what I'm doing. I promise, you will

> > never forgive yourself if you miss this experience. "

> >

> >

> > And so my sweet, darling daughter who had never given

> > me a minute of difficulty in her whole life was

> > suddenly in charge -- and she was kidnapping me! I

> > couldn't believe it. Like it or not, I was on the way

> > to

> > see some ridiculous daffodils -- driving through the

> > thick, gray silence of the mist-wrapped mountaintop at

> > what I thought was risk to life and limb.

> >

> >

> > I muttered all the way. After about twenty minutes we

> > turned onto a small gravel road that branched down

> > into an oak-filled hollow on the side of the mountain.

> > The Fog had lifted a little, but the sky was lowering,

> > gray and heavy with clouds.

> >

> >

> > We parked in a small parking lot adjoining a little

> > stone church. From our vantage point at the top of the

> > mountain we could see beyond us, in the mist, the

> > crests of the San Bernardino range like the dark,

> > humped backs of a herd of elephants. Far below us the

> > fog-shrouded valleys, hills, and flatlands stretched

> > away to the desert.

> >

> >

> > On the far side of the church I saw a

> > pine-needle-covered path, with towering evergreens and

> > manzanita bushes and an inconspicuous, hand-lettered

> > sign " Daffodil Garden. "

> >

> >

> > We each took a child's hand, and I followed Carolyn

> > down the path as it wound through the trees. The

> > mountain sloped away from the side of the path in

> > irregular dips, folds, and valleys, like a deeply

> > creased skirt.

> >

> >

> > Live oaks, mountain laurel, shrubs, and bushes

> > clustered in the folds, and in the gray, drizzling

> > air, the green foliage looked dark and monochromatic.

> > I shivered. Then we turned a corner of the path, and I

> > looked up and gasped.

> >

> >

> > Before me lay the most glorious sight, unexpectedly

> > and completely splendid. It looked as though someone

> > had taken a great vat of gold and poured it down over

> > the mountain peak and slopes where it had run into

> > every crevice and over every rise. Even in the

> > mist-filled air, the mountainside was radiant, clothed

> > in massive drifts and waterfalls of daffodils. The

> > flowers were planted in majestic, swirling patterns,

> > great ribbons and swaths of deep orange, white, lemon

> > yellow, salmon pink, saffron, and butter yellow.

> >

> >

> > Each different-colored variety ( I learned later that

> > there were more than thirty-five varieties of

> > daffodils in the vast display) was planted as a group

> > so that it swirled and flowed like its own river with

> > its own unique hue.

> >

> >

> > In the center of this incredible and dazzling display

> > of gold, a great cascade of purple grape hyacinth

> > flowed down like a waterfall of blossoms framed in its

> > own rock-lined basin, weaving through the brilliant

> > daffodils.

> >

> >

> > A charming path wound throughout the garden. There

> > were several resting stations, paved with stone and

> > furnished with n wooden benches and great tubs

> > of coral and carmine tulips.

> >

> >

> > As though this were not magnificence enough, Mother

> > Nature had to add her own grace note -- above the

> > daffodils, a bevy of western bluebirds flitted and

> > darted, flashing their brilliance. These charming

> > little birds are the color of sapphires with breasts

> > of magenta red. As they dance in the air, their colors

> > are truly like jewels above the blowing, glowing

> > daffodils. The effect was spectacular.

> >

> >

> > It did not matter that the sun was not shining. The

> > brilliance of the daffodils was like the glow of the

> > brightest sunlit day. Words, wonderful as they are,

> > simply cannot describe the incredible beauty of that

> > flower-bedecked mountain top.

> >

> >

> > Five acres of flowers! (This too I discovered later

> > when some of my questions were answered.) " But who has

> > done this? " I asked Carolyn. I was overflowing with

> > gratitude that she brought me -- even against my will.

> > This was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

> >

> >

> > " Who? " I asked again, almost speechless with wonder,

> > " and how, and why, and when? "

> >

> >

> > " It's just one woman, " Carolyn answered. " She lives on

> > the property. That's her home. " Carolyn pointed to a

> > well-kept A-frame house that looked small and modest

> > in the midst of all that glory.

> >

> >

> > We walked up to the house, my mind buzzing with

> > questions. On the patio we saw a poster. " Answers to

> > the Questions I Know You Are Asking " was the headline.

> > The first answer was a simple one. " 50,000 bulbs, " it

> > read.

> >

> >

> > The second answer was, " One at a time, by one woman,

> > two hands, two feet, and very little brain. "

> >

> >

> > The third answer was, " Began in 1958. "

> > There it was. The Daffodil Principle.

> >

> >

> > For me that moment was a life-changing experience. I

> > thought of this woman whom I had never met, who, more

> > than thirty-five years before, had begun -- one bulb

> > at a time -- to bring her vision of beauty and joy to

> > an obscure mountain top. One bulb at a time.

> >

> >

> > There was no other way to do it. One bulb at a time.

> > No shortcuts -- simplyloving the slow process of

> > planting. Loving the work as it unfolded.

> >

> >

> > Loving an achievement that grew so slowly and that

> > bloomed for only three weeks of each year. Still, just

> > planting one bulb at a time, year after year, had

> > changed the world.

> >

> >

> > This unknown woman had forever changed the world in

> > which she lived. She had created something of

> > ineffable magnificence, beauty, and inspiration.

> >

> >

> > The principle her daffodil garden taught is one of the

> > greatest principle of celebration: learning to move

> > toward our goals and desires one step at a time --

> > often just one baby-step at a time -- learning to love

> > the doing, learning to use the accumulation of time.

> >

> >

> > When we multiply tiny pieces of time with small

> > increments of daily effort, we too will find we can

> > accomplish magnificent things. We can change the

> > world.

> >

> >

> > " Carolyn, " I said that morning on the top of the

> > mountain as we left the haven of daffodils, our minds

> > and hearts still bathed and bemused by the splendors

> > we had seen, " it's as though that remarkable woman has

> > needle-pointed the earth! Decorated it. Just think of

> > it, she planted every single bulb for more than thirty

> > years. One bulb at a time! And that's the only way

> > this garden could be created. Every individual bulb

> > had to be planted. There was no way of

> > short-circuiting that process. Five acres of blooms.

> > That magnificent cascade of hyacinth!

> >

> >

> > All, all, just one bulb at a time. "

> >

> >

> > The thought of it filled my mind. I was suddenly

> > overwhelmed with the implications of what I had seen.

> > " It makes me sad in a way, " I admitted to Carolyn.

> > " What might I have accomplished if I had thought of a

> > wonderful goal thirty-five years ago and had worked

> > away at it 'onebulb at a time' through all those

> > years. Just think what I might have been able to

> > achieve! "

> >

> >

> > My wise daughter put the car into gear and summed up

> > the message of theday in her direct way. " Start

> > tomorrow, " she said with the same knowing smileshe had

> > worn for most of the morning. Oh, profound wisdom!

> >

> >

> > It is pointless to think of the lost hours of

> > yesterdays. The way to make learning a lesson a

> > celebration instead of a cause for regret is to only

> > ask, " How can I put this to use tomorrow? "

[Guest guest]

Cialynne,

Your beautiful story made me cry! You are a truly gifted writer.

Thanks for sharing your story.

> The Daffodil Principle

> > >

> > >

> > > Several times my daughter had telephoned to say.

> > > " Mother, you must come and see the daffodils before

> > > they are over. " I wanted to go, but it was a two-hour

> > > drive from Laguna to Lake Arrowhead. Going and coming

> > > took most of a day--and I honestly did not have a free

> > > day until the following week.

> > >

> > >

> > > " I will come next Tuesday, " I promised, a little

> > > reluctantly, on her third call.

> > >

> > >

> > > Next Tuesday dawned cold and rainy. Still, I had

> > > promised, and so I drove the length of Route 91,

> > > continued on I-215, and finally turned onto Route 18

> > > and began to drive up the mountain highway. The tops

> > > of the mountains were sheathed in clouds, and I had

> > > gone only a few miles when the road was completely

> > > covered with a wet, gray blanket of fog. I slowed to

> > > a crawl, my heart pounding. The road becomes narrow

> > > and winding toward the top of the mountain. As I

> > > executed the hazardous turns at a snail's pace, I was

> > > praying to reach the turnoff at Blue Jay that would

> > > signify I had arrived. When I finally walked into

> > > Carolyn's house and hugged and greeted my

> > > grandchildren I said, " Forget the daffodils, Carolyn!

> > > The road is invisible in the clouds and fog, and there

> > > is nothing in the world except you and these darling

> > > children that I want to see bad enough to drive

> > > another inch! "

> > >

> > >

> > > My daughter smiled calmly, " We drive in this all the

> > > time, Mother. "

> > >

> > >

> > > " Well, you won't get me back on the road until it

> > > clears--and then I'm heading for home! " I assured her.

> > >

> > >

> > > " I was hoping you'd take me over to the garage to pick

> > > up my car. The mechanic just called, and they've

> > > finished repairing the engine, " she answered.

> > >

> > >

> > > " How far will we have to drive? " I asked cautiously.

> > >

> > >

> > > " Just a few blocks, " Carolyn said cheerfully.

> > >

> > >

> > > So we buckled up the children and went out to my car.

> > > " I'll drive, " Carolyn offered. " I'm used to this. " We

> > > got into the car, and she began driving.

> > >

> > >

> > > In a few minutes I was aware that we were back on the

> > > Rim-of-the-World road heading over the top of the

> > > mountain. " Where are we going? " I exclaimed,

> > > distressed to be back on the mountain road in the fog.

> > > " This isn't the way to the garage! "

> > >

> > >

> > > " We're going to my garage the long way, " Carolyn

> > > smiled, " by way of the daffodils. "

> > >

> > >

> > > " Carolyn, " I said sternly, trying to sound as if I was

> > > still the mother and in charge of the situation,

> > > " please turn around. There is nothing in the world

> > > that I want to see enough to drive on this road in

> > > this weather. "

> > >

> > >

> > > " It's all right, Mother, " She replied with a knowing

> > > grin. " I know what I'm doing. I promise, you will

> > > never forgive yourself if you miss this experience. "

> > >

> > >

> > > And so my sweet, darling daughter who had never given

> > > me a minute of difficulty in her whole life was

> > > suddenly in charge -- and she was kidnapping me! I

> > > couldn't believe it. Like it or not, I was on the way

> > > to

> > > see some ridiculous daffodils -- driving through the

> > > thick, gray silence of the mist-wrapped mountaintop at

> > > what I thought was risk to life and limb.

> > >

> > >

> > > I muttered all the way. After about twenty minutes we

> > > turned onto a small gravel road that branched down

> > > into an oak-filled hollow on the side of the mountain.

> > > The Fog had lifted a little, but the sky was lowering,

> > > gray and heavy with clouds.

> > >

> > >

> > > We parked in a small parking lot adjoining a little

> > > stone church. From our vantage point at the top of the

> > > mountain we could see beyond us, in the mist, the

> > > crests of the San Bernardino range like the dark,

> > > humped backs of a herd of elephants. Far below us the

> > > fog-shrouded valleys, hills, and flatlands stretched

> > > away to the desert.

> > >

> > >

> > > On the far side of the church I saw a

> > > pine-needle-covered path, with towering evergreens and

> > > manzanita bushes and an inconspicuous, hand-lettered

> > > sign " Daffodil Garden. "

> > >

> > >

> > > We each took a child's hand, and I followed Carolyn

> > > down the path as it wound through the trees. The

> > > mountain sloped away from the side of the path in

> > > irregular dips, folds, and valleys, like a deeply

> > > creased skirt.

> > >

> > >

> > > Live oaks, mountain laurel, shrubs, and bushes

> > > clustered in the folds, and in the gray, drizzling

> > > air, the green foliage looked dark and monochromatic.

> > > I shivered. Then we turned a corner of the path, and I

> > > looked up and gasped.

> > >

> > >

> > > Before me lay the most glorious sight, unexpectedly

> > > and completely splendid. It looked as though someone

> > > had taken a great vat of gold and poured it down over

> > > the mountain peak and slopes where it had run into

> > > every crevice and over every rise. Even in the

> > > mist-filled air, the mountainside was radiant, clothed

> > > in massive drifts and waterfalls of daffodils. The

> > > flowers were planted in majestic, swirling patterns,

> > > great ribbons and swaths of deep orange, white, lemon

> > > yellow, salmon pink, saffron, and butter yellow.

> > >

> > >

> > > Each different-colored variety ( I learned later that

> > > there were more than thirty-five varieties of

> > > daffodils in the vast display) was planted as a group

> > > so that it swirled and flowed like its own river with

> > > its own unique hue.

> > >

> > >

> > > In the center of this incredible and dazzling display

> > > of gold, a great cascade of purple grape hyacinth

> > > flowed down like a waterfall of blossoms framed in its

> > > own rock-lined basin, weaving through the brilliant

> > > daffodils.

> > >

> > >

> > > A charming path wound throughout the garden. There

> > > were several resting stations, paved with stone and

> > > furnished with n wooden benches and great tubs

> > > of coral and carmine tulips.

> > >

> > >

> > > As though this were not magnificence enough, Mother

> > > Nature had to add her own grace note -- above the

> > > daffodils, a bevy of western bluebirds flitted and

> > > darted, flashing their brilliance. These charming

> > > little birds are the color of sapphires with breasts

> > > of magenta red. As they dance in the air, their colors

> > > are truly like jewels above the blowing, glowing

> > > daffodils. The effect was spectacular.

> > >

> > >

> > > It did not matter that the sun was not shining. The

> > > brilliance of the daffodils was like the glow of the

> > > brightest sunlit day. Words, wonderful as they are,

> > > simply cannot describe the incredible beauty of that

> > > flower-bedecked mountain top.

> > >

> > >

> > > Five acres of flowers! (This too I discovered later

> > > when some of my questions were answered.) " But who has

> > > done this? " I asked Carolyn. I was overflowing with

> > > gratitude that she brought me -- even against my will.

> > > This was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

> > >

> > >

> > > " Who? " I asked again, almost speechless with wonder,

> > > " and how, and why, and when? "

> > >

> > >

> > > " It's just one woman, " Carolyn answered. " She lives on

> > > the property. That's her home. " Carolyn pointed to a

> > > well-kept A-frame house that looked small and modest

> > > in the midst of all that glory.

> > >

> > >

> > > We walked up to the house, my mind buzzing with

> > > questions. On the patio we saw a poster. " Answers to

> > > the Questions I Know You Are Asking " was the headline.

> > > The first answer was a simple one. " 50,000 bulbs, " it

> > > read.

> > >

> > >

> > > The second answer was, " One at a time, by one woman,

> > > two hands, two feet, and very little brain. "

> > >

> > >

> > > The third answer was, " Began in 1958. "

> > > There it was. The Daffodil Principle.

> > >

> > >

> > > For me that moment was a life-changing experience. I

> > > thought of this woman whom I had never met, who, more

> > > than thirty-five years before, had begun -- one bulb

> > > at a time -- to bring her vision of beauty and joy to

> > > an obscure mountain top. One bulb at a time.

> > >

> > >

> > > There was no other way to do it. One bulb at a time.

> > > No shortcuts -- simplyloving the slow process of

> > > planting. Loving the work as it unfolded.

> > >

> > >

> > > Loving an achievement that grew so slowly and that

> > > bloomed for only three weeks of each year. Still, just

> > > planting one bulb at a time, year after year, had

> > > changed the world.

> > >

> > >

> > > This unknown woman had forever changed the world in

> > > which she lived. She had created something of

> > > ineffable magnificence, beauty, and inspiration.

> > >

> > >

> > > The principle her daffodil garden taught is one of the

> > > greatest principle of celebration: learning to move

> > > toward our goals and desires one step at a time --

> > > often just one baby-step at a time -- learning to love

> > > the doing, learning to use the accumulation of time.

> > >

> > >

> > > When we multiply tiny pieces of time with small

> > > increments of daily effort, we too will find we can

> > > accomplish magnificent things. We can change the

> > > world.

> > >

> > >

> > > " Carolyn, " I said that morning on the top of the

> > > mountain as we left the haven of daffodils, our minds

> > > and hearts still bathed and bemused by the splendors

> > > we had seen, " it's as though that remarkable woman has

> > > needle-pointed the earth! Decorated it. Just think of

> > > it, she planted every single bulb for more than thirty

> > > years. One bulb at a time! And that's the only way

> > > this garden could be created. Every individual bulb

> > > had to be planted. There was no way of

> > > short-circuiting that process. Five acres of blooms.

> > > That magnificent cascade of hyacinth!

> > >

> > >

> > > All, all, just one bulb at a time. "

> > >

> > >

> > > The thought of it filled my mind. I was suddenly

> > > overwhelmed with the implications of what I had seen.

> > > " It makes me sad in a way, " I admitted to Carolyn.

> > > " What might I have accomplished if I had thought of a

> > > wonderful goal thirty-five years ago and had worked

> > > away at it 'onebulb at a time' through all those

> > > years. Just think what I might have been able to

> > > achieve! "

> > >

> > >

> > > My wise daughter put the car into gear and summed up

> > > the message of theday in her direct way. " Start

> > > tomorrow, " she said with the same knowing smileshe had

> > > worn for most of the morning. Oh, profound wisdom!

> > >

> > >

> > > It is pointless to think of the lost hours of

> > > yesterdays. The way to make learning a lesson a

> > > celebration instead of a cause for regret is to only

> > > ask, " How can I put this to use tomorrow? "