Red on the Head

I love daffodils. I've loved them since I was a child.
Maybe it was because they heralded the beginning of spring. The weather changed, the days became longer, and we were able to stay outside and play longer.
Maybe it was because they were so readily available. They were everywhere! My dad built me a "playhouse" when I was a little girl, and I had it all decorated. My mom made me curtains, I had a refrigerator, sink, stove, dishes, and a little table with chairs. I loved to play house and would spend hours doing so. And in the spring, I always picked tons of daffodils, and I'd sneak a glass from the house, fill it with water, and put my daffodils in the center of my little table.
I think the reason I loved daffodils so much was not so much their appearance or when they bloomed, but because of their bravery. Where I grew up, they were the first flowers to bloom in the spring. To break through the cold, hard ground and reach for the sky took a lot of guts, especially when you were the first to do it.
That's what I think of now that I'm an adult. When I see daffodils in bloom, I think about their bravery, and wonder, "Could I be that brave? Could I break through difficult circumstances, when no one has cleared the path?"
I love the bright, sunny color of the daffodils, and how they seem to dance in the wind. They reach toward the sun...and dance.
I have learned from these beautiful little flowers. I will break through the tough times. I will reach toward the Son, and dance in the wind.

Daffodils - By William Wordsworth


I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.


Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.


The waves beside them danced, but they

Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;

A poet could not be but gay,

In such a jocund company!

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:


For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.