Every morning, we race out to the side of the house to check if the daffodils have bloomed.
Not yet. Soon, but not yet.
We see, as if by x-ray vision, the water stored inside alongside the tightly wrapped daffodil bloom.
By what command do they emerge? Who says? When?
One morning--we cannot know when--the bright yellow flower will burst forth. They mystery of it (the not knowing when) keeps us watching. Just like the Northern Cardinal eggs; just like the strawberries; just like the loose tooth and the bagel bird feeder; just like the hibernating turtle; just like every growing thing we watch and wait for.
The mystery allows us the grand privilege of hope. It grows and blooms in our hearts with every new spring day.
What growing thing are you watching these days?