Half asleep yet sipping my coffee this morning, I was struck by these withering daffodils in a vase on the table.
At the end of their life cycle, there is still something strangely beautiful about them, for there can be, though we don’t often notice, beauty in sad things.
Daffodils have never been amongst my favorite flowers, but as I look at these I can’t help thinking about how honorable the daffodil is, the way it dares to sprout up through ground still half-frozen, to face unpredictable spring weather, it seems, like it was their responsibility to herald the returning of the light and the warmth of the sun, with their trumpet-like coronas.
Funny, then, that the daffodil is interpreted in so many different ways around the globe.
Via Wikipedia, to name a few:
- The botanic name for the daffodil is narcissus, named after a mythological Greek boy who fell into such a deep love trance with his own reflection in a pool of water that he eventually fell into the pool and drowned;
- In China, the daffodil is a symbol of good fortune and wealth;
- The daffodil the national flower of Wales;
- In Germany, the daffodil is associated with Easter;
- And in Nantucket, Maine there is an annual celebration of spring festival, wherein hundreds of antique cars are adorned with thousands of daffodils.
An honorable flower indeed.