The earliest daffodils are going by, so i'm diggng up the biggest clumps and dividing them. (What are those little, short daffodils doing in the middle of a flowerbed, anyway?)
Yes, i know i'm supposed to divide bulbs in the fall--when i can't see them and when i'm not thinking about them.
When we are youthful, we can't see the truth of aging, and we don't want to think about it either. Then in the autumn of our lives, aging becomes a familiar. Whether we befriend it or demonize it, our relationship to aging is up to us.
Before my daffodils get any older, i'm going out with my shovel to divide another clump.