Up at the tomb this morning, bearing the first daffodils of Spring. The indefatigable maitresse de maison planted the bulbs years ago, but she was rarely here when they popped up.
March has always been a month of happy birthdays in our family, but it took on a different tone last year when Maman et Papa came to their final rest here. I like to think they would have been pleased to see their granddaughters standing in the March sunshine, enormous bouquets of yellow in their arms; glorious, indefatigable daffodils to honor their memory.
