The Daffodil Principle

Daffodils are my favorite flower - always have been, probably always will be. My love for this beautiful golden flower that only blooms for a couple weeks in the early spring dates back to when I was a really little girl - probably around 4 years old. My mom and I were at a nursery, I assume she was buying plants for our yard, I don't actually remember that part of the story. What I do remember is that the man who worked there gave me a bulb and told me to take it home and plant it in the ground, and in the spring I would have a big surprise. I did just what he told me to do, and then I waited, and waited, and waited. A few months is a really really long time when you're only 4!

But finally, the green leaves broke through the ground, and then one day, there was this beautiful golden yellow flower blooming in our back yard. It was the most beautiful flower I had ever seen, and it's been my favorite ever since.

This is what the flower looked like -

except there was only one bloom . . .

I'm remembering this now because of a story that circulates over the Internet every now and again, about a Daffodil Garden near Lake Arrowhead. When I first read the story, I did a little research to see if it was true, since a lot of things on the Internet are not, and I found that the garden not only exists, but is only an hour away in Running Springs. The garden is only open for about two weeks in the early Spring. I told my Red Hat Ladies about it, and we decided to make a trip up the hill.

The day we went was cold and foggy, but even so, the garden was beautiful.

The following year, we went again,

this time on a bright, sunny day,
and the flowers were even more gorgeous.


We went again this year, but we were earlier in the season

and most of the flowers weren't blooming yet.
But even so, it was still amazing, and we got some great close-ups . . .

The sad thing - the garden is now forever closed to the public

The lady who created it is in her 80's and is no longer able to maintain and care for the garden. I feel lucky to have seen it several times over the last few years, but I'm very sad to know that I can never see it again. So this is my own personal tribute to Gene Bauer and her life-long endeavor to create a more beautiful world. In case you haven't read it before, here is the story of "The Daffodil Principle" . . .

THE DAFFODIL PRINCIPLE....

Twice my daughter had telephoned to say, "Mother, you must come see the daffodils before they are over."

I wanted to go, but it was a two-hour drive from Laguna to Lake Arrowhead. "I will come next Tuesday,” I promised, a little reluctantly, on her third call.

Tuesday dawned cold and rainy. Still, I had promised, and so I drove there. When I finally walked into Carolyn's house and hugged and greeted my grandchildren, I said, "Forget the daffodils, Carolyn! The road is invisible in clouds and fog, and there is nothing in the world except you and these darling children that I want to see enough to drive another inch!"

My daughter smiled calmly and said, "We drive in this all the time, Mother."

"Well, you won't get me back on the road until it clears - and then I'm heading for home!" I assured her.

"I was hoping you'd take me over to the garage to pick up my car."

"How far will we have to drive?"

"Just a few blocks," Carolyn said cheerfully. "I'll drive. I'm used to this weather."

After several minutes, I had to ask, "Where are we going? This isn't the way to the garage!"

"We're going to my garage the long way," Carolyn smiled, "by way of the daffodils."

"Carolyn," I said sternly, "please turn around."

"It's all right, Mother, I promise. You will never forgive yourself if you miss this experience."

After about twenty minutes, we turned onto a small gravel road and I saw a small church. On the far side of the church, I saw a hand-lettered sign that read, "Daffodil Garden."

We got out of the car and each took a child's hand, and I followed Carolyn down the path. Then, we turned a corner of the path, and I looked up and gasped. Before me lay the most glorious sight. It looked as though someone had taken a great gold vat of the sun and poured it down over the mountain peak and slopes. The flowers grew in majestic, swirling patterns, great ribbons and swaths of deep orange, soft white, lemon yellow, salmon pink, rich saffron, and butter yellow. Each different-colored variety was planted as a group so that it swelled and flowed like its own river with its own unique hue. 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". The second answer was, "One at a time. 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 who, decades before, had begun - one bulb at a time - to bring her vision of beauty and joy to an obscure mountaintop. By just planting one bulb at a time, year after year, this quiet woman had forever changed the world in which she lived.

"It makes me sad in a way," I admitted to Carolyn. "What might I have accomplished if I had thought of a wonderful goal thirty-five or forty 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 wise daughter glanced at me with a smile. "Don’t be discouraged. Start today,"

She was right. We can choose a goal and begin to move toward it, one step at a time - often just one baby-step at a time - and we can learn to love the doing. It's so pointless to think of the lost hours of yesterdays. Instead, we need only to ask, "How can I put this to use today?" By multiplying tiny pieces of time with increments of daily effort, we can accomplish magnificent things. We, too, can change our world.

So thank you, (Alma) Gene Bauer, for loving daffodils and for your tireless, continuing effort to make a difference in the world.

Here's my favorite picture of Your Daffodil Garden . . .

To read the full story of the Bauers and The Daffodil Garden, go to http://www.redlandsfortnightly.org/papers/
and then scroll down to
Bauer06.html