Dejection

This morning all the beautiful daffodils were bent over, faces buried in the dirt. The rain from last night weighed them down so much that they were unable to lift their heads. How sad to see them ostrich-like, their splendor hidden from view, sucking mud.

Spring drives hard this year. All along the Genesee River the frozen banks drown in pools of rainwater slopping across flat balding grassy areas. Water almost overflows the banks, teasing the tree toes and sweeping away debris in its dirty brown embrace. Still the icy rain pounds down in unrelenting persistence. No wonder the Genesee slices New York State in half, snaking its way clear into Pennsylvania, gouging out a ragged fault line.

These gorgeous daffodils reflect everyone's attitude. We long for the warmth of summer sun, a chance to take a deep cleansing breath and step out of the gale force winds of life. Who hasn't longed to bury their head in the sand and escape at least for a moment?

We shouldn't be expecting summer this early, really. After all, it is still April and showers are part of April. But winter was long and constant, snowing nearly everyday until it makes you yell "Uncle!" Enough! Stop! I can't imagine living in Alaska . . .

I will be watching my little daffodils. I have every hope that they will unbury their faces soon, lifting them heavenward once again, shake off the dirt, smile the sky blue and the day cheerful.

Dejection, like all things earthly, lasts but a season and then moves on.