I took my mom to visit her nephew, my cousin, out of town today. All along our drive, daffodils, March blooms, and jonquils were popping up in strange places. Yards were filled with them and hillsides. These were obviously planted by loving hands and planned for the beauty they bring in Spring.
There were splotches of these wonderful flowers, though, in peculiar places, splattered about in vacant places where no homes stood, nor gardens were tended. I asked my mom if they grew as wildflowers. She said that they all come from bulbs and more than likely make that places where houses once stood, or where yards once were.
I thought that was wonderful. Even though the structures are gone, the yards vanished, these lovely spring flowers are a testimonial to the fact that someone once lived there, loved there, had families there, and maybe even died there.
The bulbs multiply from year to year, so the number of flowers increases annually. They are markers that stand as evidence of the past.