On Rivers and Sleeping Daffodils

 "Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there someday." -A. A. Milne





This has been the mildest, most wonderful springs winters I've seen in a long time.  Sometimes I forget that it's still winter. 

Some of the trees are already budding, some of the flowers are already blooming, falling for nature's little trick.  But I've noticed that there are no daffodils yet.  The daffodils are still asleep.  I expect they'll pop up sooner or later, but for now, their absence serves as a reminder that it's still time to wait.

I know what they're waiting for.  They're waiting for spring.  They're waiting for the cold and death of winter (even if it's a mild winter) to finally be over, for the warmth and life of spring to wake them up.  They're waiting for the right time.

What am I waiting for?

I don't know, but I kinda figure that all those flowers that came out too early are going to fade out quickly, or maybe even be killed off by an unexpected wintry day.

The daffodils?  They don't rush. 

Neither will I.