A Host of Golden Daffodils

Wild Vic's Cabin

In spite of cold and chills

that usher in the early spring

We have the daffodils.

                                                               Kikurio, Japanese writer

     The above photo was taken on the trail just off Hemmed-In-Hollow Falls Trail.  If you look carefully, you will see where someone long ago planted daffodils around the cabin and through out the yard.  Must have been Wild Vic's wife!  Or some female who wanted a little beauty in such a remote, lonely place.  As I walked around the cabin, it was apparent that she not only planted the flowers, she had designed a  garden with stone-lined paths and even a little spring flowing through. I pictured the industrious woman digging as best she could in the extremely stony ground.  I can appreciate the hard work that she put into bringing a little beauty to the stark surroundings. 

     Just imagine the stories that cabin could tell!  Inside, there was an old wood cookstove and some pots.  (Saddly, on our next visit, someone had taken (stolen!) them.  There was a tree trunk with sawed off branches fastened to the floor in the middle of the very small room.  It made an unusual ladder leading to the even smaller loft!  The old shutters, which  were still hanging on the outside wall, sufficed for windows as there was no sign of glass windows.  I think I will delve into some Newton County history books for more information on Wild Vic.  Anyone with such a name should have an interesting story, as would any woman who lived with him!

     We just returned from a trip to southern Mississippi and the coast.  We drove along the coastal road where we saw so much Hurrican Katrina destruction.  Five years later there are signs of rebuilding and coming back.  However, there are still those deserted, vacant lots where beautiful gardens once thrived.  Usually in those garden remains are little daffodils--yellow blooms standing bravely, bringing color and beauty and hope to anyone who passes--signs of  lives once lived in that place.  If only they could tell the stories of times gone by--of gentle southern families--parties in the gardens, sweet gulf breezes on the porch, and just across the street  that beautiful, and sometimes deadly ocean.  Again, I am imagining the stories those daffodils could tell.

    Just walked outside--cold wind blowing across the yard--and I saw the first sign of spring on our mountain.  It was those little yellow daffodils struggling to hold their heads up searching for a ray of the not-to-be-found sunshine.  They haven't grown there in my yard that long, but as time goes on hopefully there will be stories to tell about life at Mountain Springs Cabins.  Happy stories of the family who loves the mountain and of the guest who come to visit.

    

Daffodils,

That come before the swallow dares, and take

The winds of March with beauty.

    Shakespeare