When we were all together as a family, your Dad did all the driving. Back then, I was content and thrilled to be a passenger, as your Dad was much better at navigating around town. In fact, in many respects, before GPS navigation was available, I would have been called directionally-challenged.

One early spring day, we were all getting ready to go out, and it was early in the day, so it must have been a weekend. No sooner had your Dad rounded the corner of Winding Creek and Creekbend Court, than I had let out an audible scream. Your Dad reacted to my scream by slamming on the brakes of the vehicle. He says to me “what’s wrong?!”, and sheepishly, I reply “the daffodils are blooming.”

Your Dad could not help but laugh given my enthusiasm. The prior fall, I had planted daffodils in the mulched bed at the corner of our property beneath a grouping of pine trees. To see all that hard work pay off, and to see all the daffodils in full bloom was such a wonderful surprise, I could not help but scream! To this day, I can’t see a daffodil in bloom without thinking of this story, and I believe your sisters feel the same way.