Monday, March 16, 2009
Daffodils: Part V
These are the very same daffodils I photographed about a week ago. They're some early bloomers in my front yard. Once they've pushed through the ground, it doesn't take long for them to blossom. As pretty as these flowers are, when I look at this picture, all I can see is the green grass sprouting. That means that in a week or two--three at most--, it will be grass cutting season again. That means that Chesapeake Bay Woman can kiss whatever spare time she has goodbye. She will go to work at the paying job, race home and spend hours on the tractor so that her yard does not end up a destination for those wanting a jungle safari without the fuss of traveling to Africa.
Below is a continuation of my paternal grandmother's speech about daffodils to a convention in Richmond in the 1970's.
"...A word or two about arranging daffodils. Since you are members of a garden club, no doubt most of you joined because of an overwhelming desire to beautify your homes. The "bouquet" of yesterday has become the "arrangement" or today. It is an inspiring art that fascinates everyone to some extent--and from this interest often comes concern for flowers and how to better use and grow them.
Every arrangement should, it seems to me, come from within and seek to express some feeling, some need, some objective which springs from the heart rather than the mind. Arrangements should also seek to glorify the flowers and not the artist. They should be made to fit the flower and not some preconceived mechanical pattern. This means, with regard to daffodils, that the arrangement should be adapted to its nature."
My grandmother was talking about daffodils here, or was she?
I am able to draw parallels between her description of daffodil arrangements in that second paragraph and of us as human beings. We should not allow someone to arrange us in unnatural or unflattering ways. Our lives should fit us and not some "preconceived mechanical pattern," or someone else's notion of how we should be.
The philosophical portion of this post is now over.
Actually, the entire shebang is now over, thanks to I Hate Mondays, which is a chronic ailment I contracted as a teenager and never quite seemed to shake. It's a debilitating disease that renders one completely helpless from about 3:00 p.m. on Sundays through Tuesday night. The only known long-term cure for it is independent wealth, however it's been observed that those who are independently wealthy do not know how to appreciate the absence of this particular affliction. Sort of like "youth is wasted on the young."
The only other source of relief, temporary though it may be, is a rare gem called Saturday, but it's fleeting and cannot be relied upon to provide sustained overall improvement.