Below The Surface
I’d never look at a daffodil bursting through the earth in the spring and criticize it for not blooming sooner. Knowingly, I am above the snow and grasp that the flower won’t survive in any season other than the one intended for it to bloom. It’s effortless for me to witness, above the soil. Below—unseen, within the flower’s seed—is where the effort unfolds. And the daffodil isn’t the whole garden. Or at least, it shouldn’t…