Frilly Yellow Rays of Hope

It was good to get out of my home-office and get some fresh air. But as January grumbled through its last few miserable days, the rain kept coming, the sky stayed grey and the cold wind blew my hood off and made me screw up my face like a prune. I shivered gloomily as I plodded around town and worked my way through my list.

In the last shop, something small and green caught my eye. Bunches of daffodil buds, tightly wrapped up in themselves at the top with thin leafless stalks, in groups of 15 or 20 with elastic bands holding them together. "Excellent", I whispered to them, "you're here because spring is nearly here. You'll make me feel better".

I bought a bunch, came home, released them from their elastic band and let them relax in a sturdy blue plastic beaker full of cold water from the tap. For the rest of the day, the daffodils didn't move. They seemed unimpressed, too chilly to bother. "Don't expect us to cheer you up", they seemed to mutter.

On the following day they hadn't bloomed, but the tight green buds at the top seemed a bit less tightly wrapped than the day before. "Well, maybe we'll try ... if you move us into the sun", they murmured.

The next day the sun came out, and the daffodils decided to bloom. "Ta daaah!" they grinned. And I love them. Frilly yellow rays of hope that remind me that winter is nearly over and spring is on its way.