In the spring of 1984, we bought our first house. The brick planter in front of the house was full of yellow daffodils. Every spring after that, the daffodils would reappear on their own.
In October of 1991, our house burned to the ground in the Oakland Hills firestorm.
|What was left|
The following spring, we were shocked to see a daffodil pop up near where the brick planter used to be. Even after such complete devastation, the flower grew.
This week, on my morning walk with my neighbor, I saw the daffodil–nearly hidden behind the rosemary surrounding it.
What a testament to persistence, to rejuvenation, and to the wonders of nature. In spite of a fire that took out every growing thing in the neighborhood, that one little yellow sentinel comes back every year to remind us that we all survived, and that we should celebrate each spring with renewed thanks.