Broken daffodils bring joy and memory
Saturday as I walked in the park, I was shocked and saddened at the sight of these beheaded blooms.
Deviating from my path, I picked up the sheared blossoms, carried them home and put them in water.
What joy when the deep yellow one floating in the bowl sent out a waft of daffodil fragrance, evoking in an instant the innocent and balmy spring of my first year at UBC.
Deviating from my path, I picked up the sheared blossoms, carried them home and put them in water.
What joy when the deep yellow one floating in the bowl sent out a waft of daffodil fragrance, evoking in an instant the innocent and balmy spring of my first year at UBC.