I don’t know how you can look at these at not feel happy:

Daffodils are my favorite flowers. Images of them stretch far back into my childhood. Growing up in South Hill, Va. daffodils popped up everywhere. South Hill enjoys all four seasons and can have some interesting icy, snowy winters. When daffodils would poke their sunny heads through the earth in early spring it was the greatest thing to me. I’d spend hours collecting them. Bunching up wide bouquets in my small hands. Drinking in their fragrance.

They’ve always struck me as defiant little flowers. It’s like they bloom as soon as it quits snowing. It might still be cold outside, might not be the best of weather, but, the second it gets even close to resembling spring, the daffodils come out. They are flowers that will not be denied. If their large, yellow heads and graceful petals don’t entice you, their fragrance will. They are pack flowers. They prefer to grow and bloom together in groups as though knowing their beauty is even more powerful as a family. They are hearty, purposeful and complete. It’s like picking sunshine. Oh, shut up. It is.

The picture above isn’t the one I’d hope to show you. There is one stubborn daffodil that has bloomed, despite the cold temps and drippy rains, right near my front door. She stands alone, her yellow goodness greeting me every day when I come home and wishing me well every day when I leave. She’s been there for nearly a week. She has not wilted, not turned, not bowed her head in the slightest. I love having that little flower in my life right now. She is representing a season of renewal for me in so many ways. It’s as though she’s standing guard for me. Petals on watch. Colors ablaze.

But I keep forgetting to take her picture. So, above, I used a faux shot from the world wide web until I can remember to get out there with my camera and try and capture all her floral splendor.

I will never be able to do her justice, but trust me. She is magnificent.