Business of LifeAlong the roadside in Charlemont and Shelburne Falls where the Mohawk Trail winds through western Massachusetts, thousands of daffodils were planted secretly. When they bloomed, local newspapers were rife with speculation about the secret planter and this random act of beauty.
Mary Potter writes more in the Boston Globe
Everyone agreed that the daffodils brought beauty to the roadside; after a seemingly endless winter, we are all truly starved for color. But it was the secrecy, the surprise of it, that turned it into a story.
Whenever I was in Shelburne Falls, I did what I suppose those who live there did every day -- I scrutinized each face....Every single person old enough to have some measure of independence seemed a possibility.
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It was more important for me to believe that we all have a streak of royalty, the capacity to be generous, to bring beauty to others, to show kindnesses not just to our families and friends but to those we don't even know. I didn't want to know because I was -- as I think most of us are -- starved not just for color but for the belief that we can tap into our better selves. In a time when ostentation and extravagance pass for substance, when what we own or what we buy passes for who we are, when spin passes for truth and bluster passes for action, a simple flower, planted in kindness and secrecy, speaks. It tells us to give of ourselves.
As far as anyone knows, they come up forever.
The Daffodil Principle - one bulb at a time and start tomorrow.
A Bit of a Runner survived on daffodils.