Choices: Spring or Splat

The daffodil bulbs I buried in the dirt of a decorative ceramic pot last Fall are actually starting to peek through!  I am very excited and so hopeful!  If they all bloom, it'll be one glorious bunch of brightness on my deck.  So I am trying to restrain my impulse to water them, lest they drown or rot from oversolicitude. I make a daily, deliberate choice to back off, and let nature take it's course.


Choices always have consequences, so they are pretty important.  Of course, many choices are rather inconsequential in the larger scheme of things.  For example, my potentially water-logged or rotting daffodil bulbs would sadden only me.  So, minor green thumb issues or choosing an occasional iced turtle mocha rather than a regular coffee at Caribou, matters less than the choice to BE rather than be employed (something every retiree understands); and less than the choice of an authentic hermit-paced solitary life over one perpetually hibernating in a black hole of thoughtlessness; and less than choosing to smartly flee the prospect of crushing debt rather than be overtaken by it.  


But whether clandestine or transparent, choices matter to both people and plants - and animals too. Hopefully, choosing the best existential refresh key, and decisively clicking on it, will keep nasty allergies at bay, and whatever goes splat on my windshield will nourish daffodil karma forever!