The shape of the universe
Except perhaps the planting of a daffodil bulb. My daughter patting it into the earth. Its roots coil downward, birthing other bulbs. Ten of them, multiplied. Year on year.
It is said that if you plant a bulb in the ground and leave it there, next year you will have two. Leave them there – and the next year you will have four.
Twenty million, nine hundred and seventy one thousand, five hundred and twenty.
Since Grandpa gave those first ones to you.
But these are not daffodils. They are snow drops. Salvaged from my mother’s garden.Read More