One of my daughters accompanied me on a flower quest. I covet every peaceful, expansive moment with my girls. The sound of the surf always brings to present moments I had with my own mother. Maybe my girls will have a similar experience crunching through leaves in the woods and smelling damp, green, spring-laden air on some future walk.
There was an odd looking branch on the ground, sort of bleached pale grey-blue and almost polished looking. It was a deer antler, lying near a commotion of hoof-prints in the dirt. I showed my daughter, who immediately said it looked like a crown, and placed it on her head. I took some photos, and then we continued on our walk.
Twice during the walk, she arranged the daffodils, carefully and intently placing them with their heads hanging over the rim of her basket. She walked through a garden door, stopped midway, and set one of the flowers in a branch growing up the wall of the passageway. I saw her looking at her composition with a familiar tilt of the head which I've observed myself using at work on paintings.
We brought the flowers into the house.
Then, after carefully cutting a fraction of stem off the bottoms of the daffodils, my daughter spent several minutes choosing the container that would best suit them. Each selected blossom was appreciated and given quiet attention.
As I saw engraved in an old wooden bench, "SAVOUR THE PASSING MOMENT"
