I was on a walk with my mother-in-law recently, it was a brisk, grey, early spring day. We had a dusting of snow the night before but there were still the first flowers of spring to be observed as we slowly made our way down the block. I pointed out the daffodils in the neighbor's yards as they bravely continued their final blooming despite the snows attempt to weigh them down.
Daffodils have always been a favorite of mine. The first burst of spring after the long winter. Their bold mustard yellow bloom and perky slim stem is so encouraging, almost brash, as if the daffodil is natures way of giving the old middle finger to winter.
I was reminded of a quote I found meaningful when I was in the depths of grief. You know those depths, when you are afraid you just might not make it out.
Spring does no refuse to come
because it is preceded by winter.
The Courage to Grieve
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