Dear David,
As you know, daffodils are my favorite flower. They are probably the only reason that I like spring, with all its mud and pollen. Daffodils are everywhere here in Storrs, and little clumps of them are popping up all around campus. I can't describe to you just how great is my temptation to gather myself a bouquet. Thankfully, social guidelines, respect for school property, and support of campus beautification hold me back. Well, those, and the fact that most of the daffodils I pass are in highly visible areas, so I know that someone would see me, and probably disapprove. Also, I would be very upset if someone else was going around and snapping up all the beautiful daffodils for themselves. This way, everybody gets to enjoy them, little reminders of the hidden life about to explode into view. Also, they last longer when still attached to the ground. But I still can't shake the desire to pluck one of those happy flowers for my own.
So you can imagine my elation when, upon returning from a dissertation defense where I felt horribly out of place surrounded by a small clutch of faculty and grad students, I noticed one of the daffodils lying on the ground. It was white with a ruffled yellow trumpet, and of course my first instinct was to go and investigate the nature of its unusual posture. Not only was its stalk knocked over--this would have provided reason enough for me to consider bring it back with me to my dorm room, although first I would have felt obligated to give it a chance to stand upright again--it was snapped off at the base. As far as I could tell, it seemed that its sturdy stalk had simply refused to bend with whatever force had toppled it, and it had resolved to make a clean break to relieve the pressure. Of course, the poor flower had no way of knowing that such a decision would have spelled its doom, had I not come by at just that moment to rescue it from a withering fate. I took it back with me and placed it in a water bottle that I filled and tore the label off of to make the daffodil feel more at home. Now its sunny countenance smiles up at me as I sit here, recounting the tale of its journey from mulch to Molly.
It is a good day.
David, I will hear from you tomorrow.
Joyfully,
~The Princess~
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