Poems, stories, and reflections, written by faculty, staff, and volunteers currently serving in the Village.
If you’ve walked across the Village with me lately, you’ve probably heard me shrieking my love for the daffodils.
I’m aggressively fond of those little guys. Maybe it’s because I have a spring birthday, and somehow I imprinted upon the little green shoots that would poke out of my mom’s abandoned garden every year. Maybe it’s because I spent so much time in Ireland, that green and drizzly land of perpetual early spring.
Our little yellow friends bloom when things are harsh and cold and hissing wind; they grow when growth seems impossible. The turn biting snow into nurturing moisture, they are the creeping brightness that heralds future warmth. So yes, I have an embarrassingly deep love for spring flowers.
I have a love for the messy thaw of something frozen and numb, and of the little, fragile beauties that grow in that space. The resilience of tenderness, and the relentless determination for life to keep making itself new. So let’s take a moment to stop and smell the daffodils. Roses are overrated. Daffodils keep it real.
Becca Carcaterra is Human Resources Assistant at Holden Village. This column was originally published on April 29, 2020 in a daily newsletter, "The Quarantine Quarter," which is compiled by various staff members and sent to all Villagers.