Daffodils in our hair

The daffodils have bloomed! Last October, as the scorpions' birthdays approached, I took my little girl and sat with her in mounds of dirt, carefully spacing nearly 300 bulbs a few inches from the next all across our garden. We looked like two wild banshees - tisnadas from head to toe with bright red noses from the cold. We planted hyacinths, tulips, irises, crocuses and daffodils. Now they are here giving us their momentary joy.

Last year, on Valentine's day, I put a daffodil in Avelina's hair. She was just learning to stand on her own and she was so proud to be outside, holding onto a pot. This year, on Valentines day, I put a new daffodil in Avelina's hair. This time she was running from plant to plant curious bout whether or not daffodils had scent. She learned the word for the white and yellow flower and screams their name each time we pass them on the street. "Daffodiows Mima!"

There is something spectacular about bulbs- the way they store their energy beneath the earth and by some compelling source emerge year after year and bloom in an orchestra of color only to live a few short weeks and begin the cylce all over again. Perhaps I am connected to them because the process is like giving birth and losing your child in infancy and then giving birth again.

Perhaps there is nothing magical to it all - but simply a microcosim of the way life is.