And for some reason this kind of reminds me of the same thing.

Thought for the Day: "We don't see things as they are.We see things as we are." Anais NinThe Daffodil PrincipleSeveral times my daughter had telephoned to say, "Mother, you must come seethe daffodils before they are over,"I wanted to go, but it was a two-hour drive from Laguna to Lake Arrowhead."I will come next Tuesday,"I promised, a little reluctantly, on her third call.Next Tuesday dawned cold and rainy. Still, I had promised, and so I drovethere. When I finally walked into Carolyn's house and hugged and greeted mygrandchildren, I said, "Forget the daffodils, Carolyn!The road is invisible in the clouds and fog, and there is nothing in theworld except you and these children that I want to see bad enough to driveanother inch"My daughter smiled calmly and said, "We drive in this all the time, Mother.""Well, you won't get me back on the road until it clears, and then I'mheading for home!" I assured her."I was hoping you'd take me over to the garage to pick up my car.""How far will we have to drive?""Just a few blocks," Carolyn said. "I'll drive. I'm used to this."After several minutes, I had to ask, "Where are we going? "This isn't theway to the garage!""We're going to my garage the long way," Carolyn smiled, "by way of thedaffodils.""Carolyn," I said sternly, "please turn around.""It's all right, Mother, I promise. You will never forgive yourself if youmiss this experience."After about twenty minutes, we turned onto a small gravel road and I saw asmall church. On the far side of the church, I saw a hand-lettered sign thatread, "Daffodil Garden." We got out of the car and each took a child's hand,and I followed Carolyn down the path.Then, we turned a corner of the path, and I looked up and gasped. Before melay the most glorious sight. It looked as though someone had taken a greatvat of gold and poured it down over the mountain peak and slopes.The flowers were planted in majestic, swirling patterns-great ribbons andswaths of deep orange, white, lemon yellow, salmon pink, saffron, and butteryellow. Each different-colored variety was planted as a group so that itswirled and flowed like its own river with its own unique hue. There werefive acres of flowers."But who has done this?" I asked Carolyn."It's just one woman," Carolyn answered. "She lives on the property. That'sher home."Carolyn pointed to a well kept A frame house that looked small and modest inthe midst of all that glory.We walked up to the house. On the patio, we saw a poster. "Answers to theQuestions I Know You Are Asking" was the headline.The first answer was a simple one. 50,000 bulbs," it read.The second answer was, "One at a time, by one woman.Two hands, two feet, and very little brain."The third answer was, "Began in 1958."There it was, The Daffodil Principle. For me, that moment was alife-changing experience.I thought of this woman whom I had never met, who, more than forty yearsbefore, had begun-one bulb at a time-to bring her vision of beauty and joyto an obscure mountain top. Still, just planting one bulb at a time, yearafter year, had changed the world. This unknown woman had forever changedthe world in which she lived. She had created something of ineffableindescribable) magnificence, beauty, and inspiration.The principle her daffodil garden taught is one of the greatest principlesof celebration. That is, learning to move toward our goals and desires onestep at a time-often just one baby-step at a time - and learning to love thedoing, learning to use the accumulation of time. When we multiply tinypieces of time with small increments of daily effort, we too will find wecan accomplish magnificent things. We can change the world."It makes me sad in a way," I admitted to Carolyn."What might I have accomplished if I had thought of a wonderful goalthirty-five or forty years ago and had worked away at it 'one bulb at atime' through all those years. Just think what I might have been able toachieve!"My daughter summed up the message of the day in her usual direct way. "Starttoday," she said.It's so pointless to think of the lost hours of yesterdays. The way to makelearning a lesson of celebration instead of a cause for regret is to onlyask, "How can I put this to use today?". . . . .(One person at a time!)Author Unknown