It was a bleak, rainy day, and I had no desire to drive up the winding mountain road to my daughter Carolyn’s house. But she had insisted that I come and see something at the top of the mountain.
Turning down a narrow track, we parked the car and got out. We walked along a path that was thick with old pine needles. Huge black green evergreens towered over. Gradually the peace and silence of the place began to fill my mind. Then we turned a corner—and I stopped and gasped in amazement.
From the top of the mountain, sloping for several acres across folds and valleys were rivers of daffodils in radiant bloom. A profusion of color—from the palest ivory to the deepest lemon to the most vivid salmon—blazed like a carpet before us. It looked as though the sun had tipped over and spilled gold down the mountainside.
A riot of questions filled my mind. Who created such beauty? Why? How?
As we approached the home that stood in the center of the property, we saw a sign: ANSWERS TO THE QUESTIONS I KNOW YOU ARE ASKING. The first answer was: ONE WOMAN—TWO HANDS, TWO FEET AND VERY LITTLE BRAIN. The second was: ONE AT A TIME. The third: STARTED IN 1958.
As we drove home, I was so moved by what we had seen that I could scarcely speak. “She changed the world,” I finally said, “one bulb at a time. She started almost 40 years ago, probably just the beginning of an idea, but she kept at it.” The wonder of it would not let me go. “Imagine,” I said, “if I’d had a vision and worked at it, just a little bit every day, what might have I accomplished?”
