Full Circle

  
 My aunts lived on the next street over. My Aunt Alice was a wonderful cook and gardener, and her next door neighbor, Mrs. S., was also a passionate gardener. One day when I could not have been more than ten or twelve, I was outside admiring my aunt's roses when Mrs. S. came over and thrust a  heavy paper bag filled with daffodil bulbs into my arms. Then she said firmly, "Janice, go home and plant these bulbs. Plants them in a triangular pattern in groups of three." She then drew in the soil the pattern I was to follow and showed me how deep to plant them. Being an extremely obedient child, I did as I was told. My dad allowed me to plant them all along the front of his vegetable garden, and every year since then the daffodils have bloomed.

     Here's where the story gets interesting. Every few years I would dig up the clumps of daffodils and give some of the bulbs away. There's a lovely stretch of daffodil descendants blooming in front of a friend's stone wall in Hanover  and in countless other yards and gardens on the South Shore. One day I offered bulbs to my colleagues, and one teacher indicated that he would like to have some as he was going to a friend's birthday that night and he thought they would be a good gift.   After school he came by to pick up the bulbs, and I had a fancy bag and ribbon ready.  While I was digging them up, I told him the story of how Mrs. S. had given me the original bulbs so many, many years ago. He then got a startled look on his face as he explained that the woman for whom he wanted the bulbs was Mrs. S's granddaughter. Both my aunt and Mrs. S. had long since passed away and their beautiful gardens had been grassed over by subsequent owners, but here probably thirty or more years later, the bulbs became a gift for Mrs. S's granddaughter.
     One last thing . . . here is a daffodil wallhanging that I made last year. All of the flowers have beaded centers which adds a bit of sparkle to the piece.