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The Guild 7-27-2002 "The Daffodil Principle"
http://www.cwowfoundation.org/daffodil.html ^ | Jaroldeen Asplund Edwards

Posted on 07/26/2002 11:09:31 PM PDT by BigWaveBetty

"The Daffodil Principle"

Several times my daughter had telephoned to say, "Mother, you must come and see the daffodils before they are over." I wanted to go, but it was a two-hour drive from Laguna to Lake Arrowhead. Going and coming took most of a day--and I honestly did not have a free day until the following week.

"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 the length of Route 91, continued on I-215, and finally turned onto Route 18 and began to drive up the mountain highway. The tops of the mountains were sheathed in clouds, and I had gone only a few miles when the road was completely covered with a wet, gray blanket of fog. I slowed to a crawl, my heart pounding. The road becomes narrow and winding toward the top of the mountain.

As I executed the hazardous turns at a snail's pace, I was praying to reach the turnoff at Blue Jay that would signify I had arrived. 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 darling 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. The mechanic just called, and they've finished repairing the engine," she answered.

"How far will we have to drive?" I asked cautiously.

"Just a few blocks," Carolyn said cheerfully.

So we buckled up the children and went out to my car. "I'll drive," Carolyn offered. "I'm used to this." We got into the car, and she began driving.

In a few minutes I was aware that we were back on the Rim-of-the-World Road heading over the top of the mountain. "Where are we going?" I exclaimed, distressed to be back on the mountain road in the fog. "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, trying to sound as if I was still the mother and in charge of the situation, "please turn around. There is nothing in the world that I want to see enough to drive on this road in this weather."

"It's all right, Mother," She replied with a knowing grin. "I know what I'm doing. I promise, you will never forgive yourself if you miss this experience."

And so my sweet, darling daughter who had never given me a minute of difficulty in her whole life was suddenly in charge -- and she was kidnapping me! I couldn't believe it. Like it or not, I was on the way to see some ridiculous daffodils -- driving through the thick, gray silence of the mist-wrapped mountaintop at what I thought was risk to life and limb.

I muttered all the way. After about twenty minutes we turned onto a small gravel road that branched down into an oak-filled hollow on the side of the mountain. The Fog had lifted a little, but the sky was lowering, gray and heavy with clouds.

We parked in a small parking lot adjoining a little stone church. From our vantage point at the top of the mountain we could see beyond us, in the mist, the crests of the San Bernardino range like the dark, humped backs of a herd of elephants. Far below us the fog-shrouded valleys, hills, and flatlands stretched away to the desert.

On the far side of the church I saw a pine-needle-covered path, with towering evergreens and manzanita bushes and an inconspicuous, lettered sign "Daffodil Garden."

We each took a child's hand, and I followed Carolyn down the path as it wound through the trees. The mountain sloped away from the side of the path in irregular dips, folds, and valleys, like a deeply creased skirt.

Live oaks, mountain laurel, shrubs, and bushes clustered in the folds, and in the gray, drizzling air, the green foliage looked dark and monochromatic. I shivered. Then we turned a corner of the path, and I looked up and gasped. Before me lay the most glorious sight, unexpectedly and completely splendid. It looked as though someone had taken a great vat of gold and poured it down over the mountain peak and slopes where it had run into every crevice and over every rise. Even in the mist-filled air, the mountainside was radiant, clothed in massive drifts and waterfalls of daffodils. 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 (I learned later that there were more than thirty-five varieties of daffodils in the vast display) was planted as a group so that it swirled and flowed like its own river with its own unique hue.

In the center of this incredible and dazzling display of gold, a great cascade of purple grape hyacinth flowed down like a waterfall of blossoms framed in its own rock-lined basin, weaving through the brilliant daffodils. A charming path wound throughout the garden. There were several resting stations, paved with stone and furnished with Victorian wooden benches and great tubs of coral and carmine tulips. As though this were not magnificence enough, Mother Nature had to add her own grace note -- above the daffodils, a bevy of western bluebirds flitted and darted, flashing their brilliance. These charming little birds are the color of sapphires with breasts of magenta red. As they dance in the air, their colors are truly like jewels above the blowing, glowing daffodils. The effect was spectacular.

It did not matter that the sun was not shining. The brilliance of the daffodils was like the glow of the brightest sunlit day. Words, wonderful as they are, simply cannot describe the incredible beauty of that flower-bedecked mountain top.

Five acres of flowers! (This too I discovered later when some of my questions were answered.) "But who has done this?" I asked Carolyn. I was overflowing with gratitude that she brought me -- even against my will. This was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

"Who?" I asked again, almost speechless with wonder, "And how, and why, and when?"

"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, my mind buzzing with questions. 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 mountain top. One bulb at a time.

There was no other way to do it. One bulb at a time. No shortcuts -- simply loving the slow process of planting. Loving the work as it unfolded.

Loving an achievement that grew so slowly and that bloomed for only three weeks of each year. 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 principle 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.

"Carolyn," I said that morning on the top of the mountain as we left the haven of daffodils, our minds and hearts still bathed and bemused by the splendors we had seen, "it's as though that remarkable woman has needle-pointed the earth! Decorated it. Just think of it, she planted every single bulb for more than thirty years. One bulb at a time! And that's the only way this garden could be created. Every individual bulb had to be planted. There was no way of short-circuiting that process. Five acres of blooms. That magnificent cascade of hyacinth!

All, all, just one bulb at a time."

The thought of it filled my mind. I was suddenly overwhelmed with the implications of what I had seen. "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 wise daughter put the car into gear and summed up the message of the day in her direct way. "Start tomorrow," she said with the same knowing smile she had worn for most of the morning. Oh, profound wisdom!

It is pointless to think of the lost hours of yesterdays. The way to make learning a lesson a celebration instead of a cause for regret is to only ask, "How can I put this to use tomorrow?"



TOPICS: Society
KEYWORDS: theguild
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Ah, now this is how a man is supposed to look on a golf course. (What's that in his pocket? A really big cell phone?)

U.S. President George W. Bush points his driver at the press pool on the first tee at the Andrews Air Force Base golf course in Maryland, July 27, 2002. Bush celebrated victories in the House of Representatives on homeland security and trade by playing golf with key members and urging the Senate to act on the bills before next week's summer recess. (William Philpott/Reuters)

Let's compare.


41 posted on 07/28/2002 9:24:41 AM PDT by BigWaveBetty
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To: Hillary's Lovely Legs
Yep, they're going to die anyway, not much of a sacrifice. The murderers also put rat poison in their bombs with causes blood no to clot. Evil bastards.

I can't imagine the relief those families felt this morning! God bless them!

42 posted on 07/28/2002 9:31:47 AM PDT by BigWaveBetty
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To: mountaineer
Good afternoon! I just got up, watching the miners being rescued last night was a must. I saw it mentioned on another thread that Whoraldo was giving himself credit in some way, what the heck was that all about? I only watched the coverage on WTAE and KDKA, so I have no idea what they were talking about.

Funny you should mention Schweiker and the Senate, I was thinking that myself when he was speaking to the press last night. Arlen has been showing he's retirement material for a long time.

My lawn is lovely brown patches, we're sharing the same weather pattern. We had rain a few days ago, but it seems like the itsy-bitsy spider principle applies, the sun comes out and dries up all the rain.

I doubt Bill and Hill can share a hemisphere, let along stand one another for a weekend. Any claims that they spend any time together rate high on my BS meter.

43 posted on 07/28/2002 9:35:49 AM PDT by pubmom
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To: Hillary's Lovely Legs
Speaking of HIV, Sesame Street Considers Adding an HIV+ Muppet Character
44 posted on 07/28/2002 9:36:15 AM PDT by daisyscarlett
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To: BigWaveBetty
their bombs with causes

their bombs which causes Oy!

45 posted on 07/28/2002 9:37:34 AM PDT by BigWaveBetty
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To: Endeavor
I did not know BKO till she was gone.
One of the drawbacks of not watching the tellie.

A wonderful day to all who find their way here. JL
46 posted on 07/28/2002 10:07:28 AM PDT by lodwick
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To: pubmom
Quecreek miner Harry B. Mayhugh talks to reporters as his wife, Leslie, cries after his release from Somerset Hospital, at the hospital in Somerset, Pa., Sunday, July 28, 2002. Mayhugh is one of the nine trapped miners who were rescued early Sunday morning. (AP Photo/Steve Helber)
47 posted on 07/28/2002 10:20:35 AM PDT by BigWaveBetty
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To: BigWaveBetty
The doctors said the miners were ravenously hungry, and ate donuts, cookies, sandwiches, and lots of beverages as soon as it was deemed medically safe. When one asked for a beer, the doctor had to deny it, however, due to their dehydrated condition. It was quite amusing, and the doctors conducting the press conference just couldn't keep from smiling and remarking that the men's good condition after their ordeal was miraculous.
48 posted on 07/28/2002 10:49:18 AM PDT by mountaineer
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To: mountaineer
Can you imagine the partying that will be going on tonight?! Wish I could buy them all a beer.
49 posted on 07/28/2002 11:15:47 AM PDT by BigWaveBetty
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To: mountaineer; BigWaveBetty
I had to crack up, last night their first reported words on WTAE were: "There are nine guys down here, get us the hell out, we need chew." It does show they retained their sense of humor.

BWB thanks for the photo, he looks almost as choked up as his wife.

My great grandfather and both my grandfathers were mine superintendents, this story really struck a chord with me. My great grandpa and grampy told me stories about what it was like in the mines, I recalled those stories during the whole ordeal. I found myself able to imagine what it was like being trapped in such a small space and being cold, wet and hungry. God bless them all!

50 posted on 07/28/2002 11:18:55 AM PDT by pubmom
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To: BigWaveBetty
Seen here, Robert Redford is asked what he knows about the real world.


51 posted on 07/28/2002 11:20:32 AM PDT by BigWaveBetty
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To: pubmom
he looks almost as choked up as his wife.

He is as choked up. Just saw the news clip and he was saying that they weren't sure they'd get out so he asked one of his buddies to give him a pen so he could write his wife a note. He could hardly talk about it. It made me cry too.

52 posted on 07/28/2002 11:23:46 AM PDT by BigWaveBetty
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To: pubmom
The hospital folks said that although they couldn't let the guys have beer, there was plenty of smokeless tobacco to be found. People even dropped off tins of the stuff at the hospital for the miners, until the hospital people said no more was needed, thanks. WTAE claims to have a lot of exclusive footage and interviews they'll be replaying on tonight's 6:00 news. (I'm sorry to have to say that, as my brother works for WPGH news).
53 posted on 07/28/2002 11:26:43 AM PDT by mountaineer
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Public Broadcasting Service president Pat Mitchell takes questions from members of the media on Friday, July 26, 2002 at the PBS press tour in Pasadena, Calif. PBS, headquartered in Alexandria, Va., is a private, non-profit media enterprise owned and operated by the nation's 349 public television stations. A trusted community resource, PBS uses the power of noncommercial television, the Internet and other media to enrich the lives of all Americans through quality programs and education services that inform, inspire and delight. Available to 99 percent of American homes with televisions and to an increasing number of digital multimedia households, PBS serves nearly 100 million people each week. (AP Photo/Damian Dovarganes)

Golly! They completely forgot to mention that in addition to enriching the lives of all Americans through quality programs and education services they also provide a slanted lefty view of the way they wish the world should be.

54 posted on 07/28/2002 11:29:02 AM PDT by BigWaveBetty
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To: mountaineer
Thanx to all for the updates on the condition of the miners. I was struggling with some pain issues last night so I stayed up and watched every bit of it.

I switched to the Western Channel about 10:00 am. No need to concentrate and retain what you see & hear there.

BWB, I doubt that those guys will need to buy their own beer for several months.
55 posted on 07/28/2002 11:32:55 AM PDT by Iowa Granny
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To: Iowa Granny
I'll bet you're right about the beer! :-)
56 posted on 07/28/2002 11:39:39 AM PDT by BigWaveBetty
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To: BigWaveBetty
A trusted community resource, PBS uses the power of noncommercial television, the Internet and other media to enrich the lives of all Americans through quality programs and education services that inform, inspire and delight.

If the Associated Press had even one shred of journalistic integrity, it would refrain from editorializing in its photo cutlines. Good grief, that's pathetic.

57 posted on 07/28/2002 11:40:04 AM PDT by mountaineer
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Seen here, David and Liza are asked by reporters if they've consummated their marriage yet.

Actress/singer Liza Minnelli, right, and her husband, producer David Gest, laugh as they are interviewed about married life and their new weekly VH1 musical reality series, "Liza And David," in Los Angeles, Thursday, July 25, 2002. The series will follow the couple's social life in their Manhattan penthouse and will premiere in October, 2002. (AP Photo/Lucy Nicholson)

58 posted on 07/28/2002 11:40:18 AM PDT by BigWaveBetty
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To: mountaineer
If the Associated Press had even one shred of journalistic integrity,

BWAHAHAHAAHAHAA!!! Oh mountaineer, that's comedy GOLD!

I think they should hire me to caption their photos. tee hee!

59 posted on 07/28/2002 11:43:48 AM PDT by BigWaveBetty
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To: BigWaveBetty
I like your caption to post #58 better than the APs...You are such a crack-up...
60 posted on 07/28/2002 11:45:13 AM PDT by daisyscarlett
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