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 was planted as a group so
that it swirled and flowed like its own river with its own unique hue. There
were five acres of flowers. “But who has done this?” I asked Carolyn.
“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. 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 35 years before, had begun, one bulb at a time, to bring
her vision of beauty and joy to an obscure mountain top. Just planting one bulb
at a time, year after year, 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 principles of celebration. That is, learning to move toward our
goals and desires one step at a time—often
just one baby step at a time—and 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.
“It makes me sad in a way,” I admitted to Carolyn. “What
might I have accomplished if I had thought of a wonderful goal 35 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 daughter summed up the message in
her direct way. “Start tomorrow,” she said.
It’s pointless to think of the lost hours of
yesterdays. To make learning a lesson a celebration instead of a cause for
regret, simply ask, “How can I put this to use today?”
Note: In 2009, the devastating wildfire that burned
through the mountains around San Bernardino, destroying homes and taking people’s
lives, also destroyed Ms Bauer’s little A-frame home and beautiful gardens. The
following Spring, to everyone’s delight, the Daffodils bloomed again.
