* 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, "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 "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. 

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 mountaintop.

Still, just planting one bulb at a time, year after
year, had changed the world.

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: learning to
move toward our goals and desires one step at a time
often just one baby-step at a time 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 now," she said.
       
                ~ Author Unknown ~