Spring Always Comes

Spring Always Comes ... on its own schedule

One long winter when I briefly lived in Arkansas, we had an ice storm, beautiful to look at but devastating to trees.Soon after power returned (10 days later), my frozen spirit sent me looking for daffodils. I was/am a California girl and didn’t understand the concept that there were none to be had. I was willing to settle for tulips, but I could find nothing of that bright yellow that would reassure me that spring would come again.

Now I’m back in California in a mountain town known for its daffodils and apple pie, and remembering a story about a woman who planted a field of daffodils. It seemed to be the right time to go find that wonderland of yellow.

I located the story about Gene Bauer who painted her five-acre, mountain property outside Running Springs in the San Gabriel mountains east of Los Angeles with thousands of daffodils. Describing her work of clearing slopes, carving trails, and planting about a million bulbs, she said, “The work is done by two hands, two feet and a body minus a brain.”

When asked why daffodils, she responded to an interviewer, “First of all because they are beautiful and sturdy. But also because the bulbs are toxic. Gophers, squirrels and all the other critters that feast on tulips and other bulbs leave daffodils alone.”

Unfortunately, I was several years too late. Gene’s daffodils were so popular that it became harder and harder to handle the crowds so she closed her garden in 2009. However, I thought it might be possible to catch a glimpse of her daffodils so I drove about three hours to Running Springs. While I never found her place, I was delighted by the beauty of her mountain neighborhood and the daffodils I did find.

“In the fields, she stopped and took a deep breath of the flower-scented air ... her kin; better than a lover, wiser than a book. And for a moment she rediscovered the purpose of her life. She was here on earth to absorb its wild enchantment.” -- Boris Pasternak