THE DAFFODIL PRINCIPLE
Several times my daughter had telephoned to say,
"Mother, you must come see the daffodils before
they are over." I wanted to go, but it was a
two-hour drive from Laguna to Lake Arrowhead.
"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 there. 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 children that I want to see bad enough
to drive another inch!"
My daughter smiled calmly and said," 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.
"How far will we have to drive?"
"Just a few blocks," Carolyn said. "I'll drive.
I'm used to this."
After several minutes, I had to ask, "Where are
we going? 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, "please turn around."
"It's all right, Mother, I promise. You will
never forgive yourself if you miss this
experience."
After about twenty minutes, we turned onto a
small gravel road and I saw a small church. On
the far side of the church, I saw a hand-lettered
sign that read, "Daffodil Garden".
We got out of the car and each took a child's
hand, and I followed Carolyn down the path.
Then, we turned a corner of the path, and I
looked up and gasped. Before me lay the most
glorious sight. It looked as though someone had
taken a great vat of gold and poured it down over
the mountain peak and slopes. 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 was planted as a
group so that it swirled and flowed like its
own river with its own unique hue. There were
five acres of flowers.
"But who has done this?" I asked Carolyn.
"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. 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.
Just planting one bulb at a time, year
after year, 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 principles of celebration. That
is, learning to move toward our goals and desires
one step at a time - often just one baby-step at
a time - and 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.
"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 'one bulb at a
time' through all those years. Just think what I might
have been able to achieve!"
My daughter summed up the message of the day in
her direct way. "Start tomorrow," she said.
~ author Jaroldeen Asplund Edwards ~
