Change is all around us, sometimes creeping, sometimes so abrupt that we wonder if anything will remain the same.

The landscape changes. Suddenly on a daily drive we wonder … when did that old house come down, where the new one now sits? Did that business go out? When did that field turn into houses? When did that church add on? Is that couple still living?

Our work life changes. Most of us, instead of getting on a tractor or in a boat, get in our car to drive to work. Farming and fishing survive but on a much smaller scale from the days during which these occupations defined our community.

Education changes, and it has in a big way from the scene of one century ago: small schools, short school years, instruction available to those who attended but few rules about who should be educated, and no planning for those who differed. 

Society changes. It seems that almost anything goes in the way of lifestyle, appearance. Most importantly, although some are always trying to stir the pot of trouble, the majority of people continue to treat each other with respect in spite of differences.

And so it goes on. Some change is known to be good, some is considered bad, some is just the way it is.

Amidst all this change, we find some good and steady news every year: daffodils are blooming in the same place. They too have survived the decades, all sorts of weather, road improvements, etc. They have witnessed every new model of vehicle that speeds by, and survived its exhaust. They have lived through the northeast storms, the droughts, and the freezes. They venture skyward every spring and open their beautiful blossoms for us to enjoy.

Daffodils are the blooming face of humanity, good in spite of all the changes and ugliness in today’s world. We are so glad to see them again, blooming in the same place on that daily drive that has otherwise taken on such a different look.