My favorite flower, daffodils, are in full bloom here in North Texas. Lots of people like daffodils because they are harbingers of spring and the release from winter’s cold grip. However, my love of daffodils began years ago in a high school English literature class, partly due to a terribly boring series of essays we’d been reading—and I mean booooring. When we finally finished that section in the textbook, I turned the page. A stunning photo of a field of golden daffodils introduced a poem by Wordsworth. One thin page had transported me from awful essays to interesting poems—they really were much, much better than the essays. We’d moved from parched desert to lush fields, so to speak, and I’ve loved daffodils ever since.
Yesterday I took this photo at Dallas Baptist University, where I’ve been feasting my eyes on the flowers for a week or two. Happily, the deep freeze didn’t damage them.
Next will come regal irises and a plethora of wildflowers: bluebonnets, Indian paintbrush, pink primroses, and red clover, to name a few. Since I don’t have a green thumb, I’m particularly appreciative of the wildflowers that sprout up without all that gardening effort.
Another reason for loving daffodils and all the rest of these flowers is their connection to one of my favorite Scripture passages, Matthew 6:28-33. Jesus asked His followers why they tended to worry about such things as clothing when the Heavenly Father arrays the short-lived wildflowers with more beauty than that of a king’s robes. Truly, no clothes from even a ritzy store like Niemen Marcus can match a flower’s artistry.
Next time you get a chance, look at a daffodil up close, take a whiff of spring itself, and be reminded of its Creator, the ultimate Artist.