The surest way to find an old homestead’s yard is a line of jonquils or daffodils along the road. After a bleak winter, and the misery of February, their vibrant greens and yellows would inspire hope in anyone tied to the land. Regardless of the dark and cold days behind, light and life are near at hand. I love to see jonquils’ blooms in frost, or poking out of snow, standing as if in defiance. As urban expansion moves ever outwards in NWA, the bride and I love to transplant these little beacons of hope of those eho settled and lived here before us, unearthing them ahead of the bulldozer and adding them to our meek little homestead.