I am grateful for spring. The swelling in my heart when I see a daffodil would not be so great if it didn’t grow from the dry twigs and barren landscape of the winter ground.
The 10th and 15th daffodils are lovely in April. Yet they don’t spark the same light in my soul as the first glimpse of bright yellow on a cold day in March. When the dark days come I want to remember how glorious the light will be in contrast…and that the light is coming.