“The daffodil was chosen as the symbol of hope for all touched by cancer because of its reputation as a hardy annual flower, pushing its way through the frozen earth after a long winter to herald the return of Spring, new life, vitality and growth.” (Daffodilday.com.au)
Usually, I’m not one who gets overly weepy by symbols and metaphors. (Ok, maybe they tug at my heart a little). But daffodils don’t particularly have a special place in my heart, just because my husband survived cancer.
I think daffodils are absolutely beautiful. And that money for cancer research and support is a worthy cause.
In fact, flowering bulbs in general are simply amazing. To think that something so dirty and ugly and looks like a demented onion could possibly erupt into a stunning flower.
And that all the information for bright yellow petals, green stalks and a funny trumpet shape is stored somewhere inside this lump.
I guess in a way, I feel that the bulbs are more beautiful than the flower itself. And possibly a more beautiful symbol of hope.
Eh, did I just get all weepy?