I’ve been flirting with spring fever for quite a while, but yesterday it hit full force. It was a lovely day in the hills. We slept with the bedroom window open and I drove around town with the car windows open. After work I put on a pair of shorts, which is fairly unusual for me. I don’t wear shorts that often in the summertime. It seemed right, however, and a way to enjoy the weather.

Of course we know the perils of spring weather - at least those of us who have lived in these parts for a few years. I can remember a blizzard on May 11 that deposited a couple of feet of snow on everything. Although the crab apple trees are in full bloom, there are some other trees that are just beginning to bud out, still suspicious of the possibilities of additional snow.

The daffodils are putting on a display in front of our house. They’ve been snowed on at least twice since they started blooming and they look pretty sad with the heads turned down when they are covered with snow. Still they are resilient flowers and a little sunshine turn them back toward the light and perk them up. You have to look closely to see the imperfections in the blossoms that are the result of the ups and downs of the weather. There is plenty of green foliage and there will be sufficient sun and rain to nurture the bulbs to produce more blossoms next year.

It is interesting that the deer seem to have left the daffodils alone this year. I don’t think that they like the flowers, but some years they can’t seem to resit biting off a few blossoms. Even when they spit them out, you can tell that they have been sampling. One theory that I have is that the young deer don’t know what does and what does not taste good to a deer until they sample quite a few things that they end up spitting out. If that is the case, the daffodils fare pretty well simply because they bloom so early. We’ve probably got three or four weeks before we see the baby deer appearing in our neighborhood. They like to wait until the threat of snow is over before the little ones are born.

The daffodils have gotten me to thinking about resilience. The ability to experience adversity and persist is a quality I admire. I like to think that I could show resilience, though my abilities in that arena haven’t really been tested. I’ve lived a privileged life with little adversity. I’ve been fortunate in family and marriage. I’ve enjoyed exceptional health. I have a loving and supporting congregation of people who surround me. I’ve not been present for the worst of natural disasters. Life has been good to me.

Still, I know that I will need resilience before this life’s journey is over. Every human being faces loss and grief. Pain is built into this life. There are a thousand things that today I do with ease that will become challenges as my physical abilities begin to fade. I won’t always be able to swing a boat up onto the rack on the back of my pickup. The day will come when I will have to pause to catch my breath to walk in the woods. As a friend who uses a wheelchair for mobility is fond of saying, “Just because you are temporarily abled doesn’t mean you won’t be parking in the handicapped spot before the end of your life.” I think “temporarily abled” is a pretty good description.

We will all experience disability of one form or another in this life.

Part of developing resilience is learning to be fully alive in each moment. Being fully alive requires the discipline of paying attention to what is going on right here, right now. We are equipped with brains that are capable of envisioning the future. We are filled with anticipation about what will come. When the future looks bleak, we can become depressed. It isn’t the only way that humans become depressed, but when times get tough it can be a real advantage to be able to simply deal with the present and let go of our hopes and fears for the future. “So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself.” (Matthew 6:34)

The daffodils are here to be appreciated today. I know that the blossoms will be gone by July and by the end of August it will be difficult to distinguish the remaining leaves from the other things in the garden. They are good models for me. Shine while you are able. Shake off the snow and raise your head high. Display what beauty you are able while you are able. Understand that other flowers will come and display more colors later.

The daffodils are the first blossoms of the spring in our yard if you don’t count the dandelions. We tried crocus and tulips the first years we lived here but the deer really love those plants and they have not survived. The daffodils promise that the iris will follow. There will be flowers this summer. There will be flowers next year as well. Even after the time comes for us to sell this house and move to a place that requires less effort and care, the flowers will come.

Last year, in an effort to reduce yard work, we moved a couple of flower beds that were farther from the house. We dug up the bulbs and transplanted them to areas closer to the house. We hauled in fresh compost and seeded grass in the old areas to reduce the care to mowing and occasional watering. The daffodils are blooming in their new bed. But there are also a bunch of daffodils that we missed that have come up in the old beds. Even with the disruption of the rototiller and the depositing of fresh compost and the seeding of grass, they have made their appearance in the old place. Some of them will get transplanted this spring. We really only want grass in the old places. But it might take several years before we get everything moved.

I admire the resilience of the daffodils.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.