I took a whirlwind trip a couple of weekends back and returned home late last Monday night, exhausted: the kind of exhausted that gives you tunnel vision, focused only on putting one foot in front of the other until your feet lead you to bed.

In that grump-a-lump state, I got out of my car and walked headfirst into a six-foot-tall camellia bush dripping with fuchsia blooms. Y’all. I literally squealed in delight. Spring! You’re here!

Beyond the camellia bush is a little stone walkway leading to our back door, and it’s now lined with purple and pink flowers and yellow daffodils. On that Monday night, the colorful sight was pretty much the opposite of raining on my parade.

I’ve always had a penchant for late spring’s tulips and peonies much more than these first flowers of the season. Frankly, their frailness has always made them seem sort of cheap to me, and the colors flat – the $3 discount bouquet.

I now retract all previous statements and have yet to stop swooning over my camellia bush. Kayla’s post this weekend was precisely what I needed to read. She says that the scent of daffodils has historically been used as an intoxicant to soothe anxious, over-thinking minds.

Sold. I snipped an itty bitty humble yellow flower for my bedside table. Rather than garishly yellow, it now feels boldly optimistic.


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