For the last few days I've been looking out of our dining room windows and admiring the Daffy-Dill blossoms searching out the sun. (I know that's not how the flower's name is spelled, but, that's always how I think of them and it's my blog so that's how they are going to be referred.) I've been watching over the last weeks as the shoots came out of the ground, tentatively at first, struggling against the still cold air to make their way up and outward. The blossoms were just forming in their green cocoons when a late snow fall blanketed the ground around them. I worried about the delicate flowers inside, but, lo and behold, they survived that vicious and callous attack by Mother Nature and waited it out. Once the snow melted, the buds continued their development, arriving for first light a few days ago.

Their bright yellow-ness is in sharp contrast to the grey and dismal nature of most of their surroundings. The grass is still brown and patchy, starting their recovery process without much haste (except for one section of lawn who, taking their cue from the Daffys, is already at a height that reminds me I'll need to drag out the lawn mower again soon or be faced with machete high reeds before too long.) The Daffy-Dills don't seem to mind being the only ones in the neighborhood declaring the Spring-ness in the air. And I for one am trying to take my cue from them.

The other day, I was walking downtown and as the fifty mile an hour wind made the 30 degree temperature nearly unbearable I told my companion that I refuse to accept the cold. By the calendar it is Spring and so in my mind I was telling myself it was a balmy 68 degree, sunny day. Luckily I didn't have to keep up the ruse much more than a half-block before we took refuge in a building, but I successfully was able to convince myself it really was Spring.

Some may think that my success just proves how delusional I can be at times. But in my defense I point to the Daffy's (maybe, if I'm going to use them as a defense against insanity I should defer to using their proper names to make my arguments stronger. Nah.) The plucky little flowers have a timing mechanism that keeps their biology on track, regardless of the quirkiness of the weather patterns around them. When it is time to bloom, they bloom. They seek out the sun whether the sky be grey and overcast or blue and sunny. They force, by sheer will, the Spring-ness around them. In their efforts they win over hearts of those who take the time to look and admire their beauty in the face of adversity. A little bit of Spring goes with each person who stops to watch their epic (at least for a plant) struggle against the world. 

I think the Daffy's are really achieving their goal. One heart at a time are turning to believe that Spring- if not actually here, is just around the corner. It must be. Something so delicate and beautiful as a glorious, yellow flower can't be wrong, can it?

I think I'll go admire the Daffy-Dills a bit, before bundling up and going on about my day. 

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