In many homes up and down the land, people carefully pot bulbs a little way into the new year, leaving them in a darkened place and looking forward to seeing them begin to break through the soil. Week by week, they carefully check on them, at the prescribed intervals, and bring them into the light again once the first robust green shoots are visible. Watering them occasionally – but not too much – they watch as miraculously, the stalk extends and then flower clusters begin to form all along it. Below them grow a few thick, stiff, rubbery-like leaves which reach up and out, almost as though to protect the previous treasure within. The small, star-shaped flowers come in the most marvellous array of colours, each of their petals outlined in a lighter shade of its self-same hue. Cerise pink, indigo blue, cornflower yellow, creamy white and even coral orange. Once full matured, their sweet, heady scent carries notes of honey and citrus and seems to envelop everything around it, whether they have been left in a bright inside space or replanted outside.
These ones, however, have never known a life indoors. Propagated by separating the parent bulb and bulblets just before the flowers on their donor plants began to fade the previous year, here they are, only ever having been outdoors. Aside from this, they have been cultivated in just the same way, only by nature. With plenty of dark nights followed by slowly wakening and ever lighter days, they have gradually grown into stalked clusters which promise to increase in size a little further yet. Running alongside one edge of the park path, they are all a shade of dazzling pink. In other parts of the same community gathering place, they exist in shorter rows, but pale purple in colour. Everywhere they appear, however, they are greeted with the same welcome. “Oh look! It’s the happy hyacinths!”
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No-one knows exactly where this ‘happy’ tag originates from. Nevertheless, everyone seems to use it. Parents, who copied their own parents way back when they commented on the flowers many years ago, now find their own children imitating their same words.
“Oh look! It’s the happy hyacinths!”
“Oh, look! It’s the happy hyacinths!”
Some of them are still learning how to pronounce certain phonemes, so their intended meaning is identical, even though the sounds they make are a little different.
“Oh, lock! It’s the happy hyacints!”
“Oh look! It’s the hippy hycints!”
It matters not, for just from the excitement in their voice and the direction in which their little fingers are pointed, everyone knows what they are referring to.
“Do you like them sweetheart? Aren’t they pretty?”
“Yes! Pwitty!”
If the hyacinths had not been happy before, they most certainly are after they sense the fondness of feeling that all the passers-by have for them.
———————-
Across from the pink hyacinths are rows of narcissi. Their tepals pale yellow, with an ochre trumpet, they too always appear happy. Yet no-one points at them and calls out “Oh look! It’s the happy narcissi!” Perhaps today’s grandparents never chose to comment on these flowers in the same way, so none of the generations that have come after them do. The people who see them certainly admire them and feel happiness in the process. They just don’t refer to the flowers themselves being happy.
The pink hyacinths also get a lot of pleasure from seeing the narcissi standing opposite them. And the narcissi feel just the same about the pink hyacinths. Whilst they can each see the other flowers of their kind around them, it is wonderful to be faced with a species so very different to their own. It reminds them of the incredible varieties in which flora come, and the inimitable beauty that each provides. During the period of the year when their presence overlaps, the two sets of flowers often communicate among themselves and with each other. With sunrise coming earlier and sunset later, the days are getting ever longer. This friendly exchange breaks up the hours whilst they are awake and adorning the tarmac path trodden by so many dog walkers, mothers pushing prams, friends sharing news and elderly couples taking quiet constitutionals.
Another beautifully bright morning!
It is indeed. And much milder than it has been.
I’m certainly feeling the benefit in my leaves and petals.
I think we all are!
And people are so complimentary as they stroll by.
Yes, we’re very lucky where we’re located. A bit of regular footfall but not too much.
And some space up there between the tree canopies to allow the sun to shine upon us.
For a few moments there is nothing but the tweeting of a small bird, as the flowers all contemplate their good fortune.
I know I’ve not lived anywhere else, but I’d be surprised if other places felt better than it does right here.
Were the other hyacinths and narcissi able to, they would nod in agreement with these words. Instead, there is a sort of shaking of the hyacinths’ clusters and the narcissi’s tepals. Some might think this is down to a swift, passing breeze. In fact, it is their way of showing they are of the same opinion. They are all certain that it would be very hard to improve upon their current situation.
Whilst the hyacinths stand between the path and some buxus which disguise the green metal railings behind them, the narcissi are backed by much greater, more expansive bushes. Just beyond these, the land slopes down a little, to provide a stunning view of the valley below the park and the side of the rolling hills beyond it. Or at least it would, if the bushes didn’t obscure this very view of the valley from the narcissi as well as those walking along the path. Over time, as the space was available, the bushes have been permitted to grow continuously, rarely being trimmed. They now overshadow the narcissi somewhat, making them appear more like the dwarf daffodils that appear elsewhere in the park than the full-sized kind, which they actually are.
Just as one of the hyacinths is about to pass a further comment on the particularly cloudless sky, three men wearing orange, high visibility vests walk between the two groups of flowers. And then they stop. Moving over to the narcissi, they survey the bushes behind them, standing up tall to gauge their full depth, and then side-stepping in each direction to consider their width. Then they come back together, their eyes still trained on the bushes.
“I think perhaps the bushy honeysuckle, just a bit off of that. Nice still to see a bit of its little glossy leaves, and the cream flowers at this time of year.”
“No problem, mate. And what else?”
“That huge one, the Japanese laurel, that’s the one I’d like to keep most of. But we can afford to give it a fairly good haircut.”
“Short back and sides?”
“Maybe not that drastic. I’ve seen your work remember,” the park keeper jokes to the volunteer gardener. “It’d probably end up more like a buzz cut!”
“He’s got a point,” the other volunteer says, laughing. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep him in check. Make sure he doesn’t get too trimmer happy.”
“Hey! I’m not that bad.” The first volunteer tries to defend himself, but the park keeper and the second volunteer stare fixedly at the grade zero haircut that his own head is sporting.
“No, ‘course not.”
“No danger of you getting out of control with the clippers!”
“Fine, fine. Then I’ll just take it nice and easy. Make sure it’s still fulsome, but a lot tidier and with some more space either side so the views are visible again.”
“That sounds more like it,” the park keeper agrees.
“What about that other one?” the second volunteer asks, raising his arm to indicate a third bush, to the left of the other two.
“The Ebbing’s silverberry?”
“Yeah. It’s lovely. Are you sure you want to take it back?”
“We really need to,” the park keeper explains. “I want those narcissi to be more apparent to people. They’re a bit eclipsed.”
“But won’t just taking away some of the other two be enough?”
“No, better to give it a good trim too. It’s not been touched for a long while. It’ll help keep those sea-green leaves nice and healthy.”
“They kind of glint, don’t they?” the second volunteer comments.
“They certainly do. Really metallic looking. And underneath, they’re all silvery scaly.” The park keeper always loves it when volunteers show real interest in certain species of flora. It re-ignites his own passion, reminding him just why he chose to study horticulture all those years ago.
“Seriously. This I’ve got to see.” The second volunteer takes a few steps towards the bush and gently takes one of its leaves into his hand. Turning it over, he sees that it is just as the park keeper has described. “Wow! Isn’t that a marvel?” He strokes his fingers across it.
“It is.”
“Hey, you two, sorry to spoil your party, but are we getting some bushes trimmed back around here?” The first volunteer points repeatedly, and over-exaggeratedly, at his watch. “We have to head off somewhere else at lunch time, remember.”
———————-
In the end, the hyacinth never makes its comment about the blue sky. It decides it can always do so another day. Today has suddenly become an unexpected one, when they will be saying goodbye to some of their flora friends. It happens from time to time, for various reasons. Aside from being trimmed back, a severe storm can rip out plants, and even smaller trees. If there’s a lot of rain, or that bit too much sun, then things can get waterlogged, or become overly dry and frazzled. In both situations, it’s sometimes impossible to bring them back to health, so they get dug up. The hyacinths have seen, and heard about, all sorts of things over the years. Their position next to the path means that what they haven’t witnessed for themselves, they generally hear about from those meandering past. They consider this an occupational perk. You can learn a lot by standing still beside a path in a park and listening for hours on end.
So, it seems we have some friends leaving. The hyacinth, knowing that all of its counterparts, as well as the narcissi, have seen and overheard the same scene between the men, says what all the other flowers are thinking. There is an almost collective feeling of relief in the air after it has spoken. It does no good ignoring an inevitable truth. If it’s not addressed, it has a tendency to raise its head in some other way until it is openly recognised.
Do they have to be so flippant? One of the narcissi is clearly affronted by the way in which the men have talked about removing parts of the bushes that live behind them.
I don’t think they do it on purpose. The hyacinth understands why its flower friend feels the way it does; however, it’s sure that the men don’t mean to be offensive. They’re just doing their job. And they’ve never been a bush, or a flower, so they probably can’t quite imagine what it’s like to be one.
But it hurts us just as much as it would them when someone decides to remove a bit of us.
I know. But at least they’re only trimming the parts that the bushes can grow back again. Their branches. Their foliage. Even their crown. They’re a bit like human hair. Cutting them back can help to ensure they grow healthily, densely and evenly.
A short pause before the narcissus responds leads the hyacinth to think that what it has said may have been appeasing.
But not every bush wants to grow in the same way. Perhaps some of them want to be uneven, straggly and wild.
The hyacinth can’t help but chortle at this. Like certain of the human haircuts that grace us with their presence?
Just like those! Despite trying to remain a little stern in its tone, the narcissi fails and begins to laugh as well. The thought of some of the haircuts all the flowers have seen in their time is nothing short of extremely humorous. Exactly like those!
Well, unfortunately it seems that the bushes aren’t going to get much of a say in things, so we’ll have to hope that the men in bright jackets are caring and truly know what they are doing.
They didn’t seem so keen on their colleague’s super short haircut, I suppose… the narcissus reasons.
No. Perhaps because they know what a good trim should actually look like! This quip from the hyacinth causes all of the flowers around it to dissolve into laughter, from giggles right through to hearty chuckles.
For a moment, the narcissus wonders how it is that the hyacinth always seems to be able to remain happy, no matter what is going on around it. But then it realises it perhaps doesn’t matter. Its happiness seems to be contagious and that is surely the most important thing.
———————-
The hyacinth, realising they probably have little time before the men return to start work, thinks that they should get their farewells in quickly. Honeysuckle! Laurel! Silverberry! We know some of you might be leaving us, at least for a while. So we just wanted to say goodbye. We’ll miss you!
It’s OK! a voice calls back. We’ve been feeling a bit tired for a while, so this will give us the pep we need. We’ll be back before you know it.
The upbeat tone in the honeysuckle’s voice makes the narcissi ponder for a moment why no-one walks by and exclaims “Oh look! The happy honeysuckle!” But they decide there’s probably plenty of time to think about that another day.
We’ll be really sorry to see you go, even if it’s not forever, one of the narcissi trumpets.
Thanks for giving us such a send-off! The silverberry sounds equally unphased about its imminent decrease in size.
You’re helping us to be better seen. We really appreciate the sacrifice! The narcissus figures that it should show its gratitude before there are parts of the silverberry that are no longer able to hear it.
Not at all. You’d do the same for us, I’m sure. Take care of yourselves and don’t worry if you hear a grunt or two from our direction. We’re used to it but it still always nips a bit! Just as the silverberry says this, the men reappear along the path. This time, both are carrying electric hedge trimmers.
“So which do you want to get started on?” The first volunteer scans all three bushes, seemingly undecided as to where may be the best place to begin.
“I don’t mind. Left to right? The silverberry?”
“Works for me. If you take the far side, I’ll keep an eye to see it’s shaped right, then you can do the same for me when I do the near side?”
“Great.” The first volunteer walks over to the left-hand side of the silverberry bush and looks over at his friend as he pulls down his clear eye goggles. “Teamwork, mate. That’s what it’s all about.”
“Totally! Makes the dream work and all that!” His friend high fives the air with his hand and then manoeuvres himself back into a position where he can monitor what the first volunteer is doing. The hedge trimmer rumbles as it starts up and then whirs as it kicks into action. Its handler takes a step towards the silverberry and raises the trimmer in the air slightly. Bringing it down slowly again, he gently slices off a couple of small, twig-like branches protruding from the far side of the bush.
Oooh! Ouch!
The hyacinths and the narcissi watch and listen, wishing they could do something but knowing that they have little choice but to stand where they are and wait until their bush friends have received their new cuts.
The trimmer slides down the side of the silverberry again, removing a few more thin branches.
Oooh! Aah! That tickles!
It is the hyacinths who first stifle a laugh, relieved at the fact that the operation seems to be causing their friend a bit of discomfort of the tolerable kind. Eventually, all of the narcissi are doing the same. With the noise of the hedge trimmer, though, it hardly matters. Little can be heard over the sound of the bush-reducing tool.
———————-
Once the silverberry has been cut back, the hyacinths have to admit that the view of their narcissi friends becomes clearer, as does that of a section of the valley down behind them. This makes them happy. Even happier than they were before. The men take a break, retrieving some bottles of water from the rucksack one of them is carrying. The noise from the hedge trimmer disappears for a while as they gulp down great mouthfuls of the refreshing liquid.
One of the hyacinths, taking advantage of the silence, lets the narcissi know its thoughts on the results of the men’s work. You look really good. So bright, straight and tall.
And you look really thick and tidy! it calls over to the silverberry, not wanting to leave it out.
Thank you.
Thanks!
It’s nice to know our best is on show.
Likewise!
Surprisingly, given the reduction in dimensions of one of their companions, the narcissi also find they are feeling happy, once they know the bush is safe and content with its new neat cut. They have little time to think about this, however, as the men stand up, ready to begin work on the next bush.
“Same kind of thing?” the first volunteer asks.
“I think he wanted a bit more off of this one,” his friend replies, his eyes focused on the bushy honeysuckle. “It is pretty wild.”
“Say no more.” The same rumble can be heard as the trimmer starts up and he gets to work on the next bush, artfully slicing away branches and shaping the top and sides. This time, there is no sound from the bush. The flowers watching proceedings wonder whether in fact it might be making some, but it’s drowned out by the heavy whirring of the large, hand-held machine.
When the first volunteer switches the hedge trimmer off once again, the bush is decidedly smaller than it was. Like the silverberry, though, it looks smarter, and its branches and leaves seem more compressed, denser somehow. There is also now some space either side of it, which makes the narcissi in front more noticeable and the view behind more perceptible. The hyacinths feel even happier at this, as their view just keeps on improving.
Are you OK? one of them calls across to the bushy honeysuckle, to check that the procedure has not left it in pain or bereft.
I am! A few twinges, but otherwise really good.
I’m so pleased. You look fantastic. Rest up and hopefully in a day or two even the little pangs will be gone.
Thanks! I will! The bushy honeysuckle, given the shearing it has just undergone, sounds incredibly happy. This in turn makes the narcissi feel that it is OK for them to be happy as well. There is just something about happiness, it seems. It is as though once someone is obviously feeling it, it is hard for all those around it not to feel it too.
———————-
The third bush is finished in no time. The laurel was not as large and unwieldy as its two neighbours, so it does not take long to give it back a flattering shape. As the two men place their empty water bottles back in the rucksack lying on the ground beside them, they admire their own handiwork.
“Not bad, eh?”
“I reckon. And all before lunchtime!” The first volunteer places his hand on the other’s shoulder. “Come on, we’ve got time to pick something up before the next job. What do you fancy?”
The two men discuss their meal options as they walk back along the path towards the park keeper’s store, their voices gradually fading into the distance.
You look really smart! one of the hyacinths calls over to the laurel. How do you feel?
A little sensitive, to be honest. But it’s worth it. In a day or two I’ll be over it and the new appearance more than makes up for it. The laurel sounds positive and proud.
That’s the attitude! Take good care then. I hope you get a good night’s sleep!
Thanks! You too!
Once again, the hyacinths are happy – even happier – because their neighbour is safe and well and their view is now really rather stunning. This enables the narcissi to feel happy too. And so, the level of happiness increases amongst the small community of plants once more. As the early afternoon sun sits high in the sky, casting its light and warmth over the newly landscaped area of the park, the hyacinths’ pink petals and the narcissi’s yellow tepals seem brighter somehow. Almost as though they are glowing. The recent changes in their immediate environment certainly seem to suit them. The leaves on the bushes behind reflect the sun’s rays, green glints bouncing off of them in all directions. They too are enjoying their newfound lightness and the extra space around them. The passers-by, who start to notice that something is a little different to the last time they trod this route, stop to point at the improved vista of both the narcissi and the valley beyond.
“There are just so many of them! I hadn’t really noticed before.”
“And such a sunny shade of yellow. They brighten up this whole path!”
“Who knew that view of the valley was hiding behind those bushes? It’s wonderful to be able to see it.”
“And don’t they look so neat and tidy? Thicker somehow. Although that must be my imagination.”
Listening to the comments from those walking alongside them, the narcissi feel almost overcome with happiness. Everything and everyone around them seems so happy too. They find themselves hoping that there are more afternoons just like this one to come over the subsequent days. The thoughts of one of the narcissi turns to its well-known happy counterparts. Looking across at them, something occurs to it.
Excuse me, I was just wondering…are all hyacinths happy? I mean are they all as happy as you?
The hyacinths, on hearing this, chatter amongst themselves for a moment.
That’s a good question.
Are they?
Do we know any others we can ask?
What about those small ones right at the end of our row?
The grape hyacinths?
Yes, those… but, erm, where did the ‘grape’ come from?
Because they’re small. Bulbous. Deep violet-blue flowers, a bit like little bells. They look kind of like an upside-down bunch of grapes.
I’m not sure I-…
An elongated one.
Oh, yeah! Thanks. Anyway, can we ask one of them? See if they’re happy too?
Sure.
Hey, little grape hyacinth! How are you all doing over there? Enjoying the afternoon?
There is the briefest of pauses before a more-high pitched voice enthusiastically responds, I certainly am!
We were just wondering if we might ask you something?
Of course. Go ahead
Our friends, the narcissi over there, wanted to know if all of us hyacinths are happy. We can speak for ourselves, and us traditional, pink hyacinths definitely are. We just wondered if you are too?
This time, there is a slightly longer pause. The grape hyacinth takes a bit of time to consult those around it before coming back with an answer.
Well, it seems we all are as well. Very happy, in fact.
That’s marvellous to hear! Thank you! Enjoy the rest of your afternoon!
Believing that this is at least some confirmation that many, if not all, hyacinths are happy, the pink hyacinth is quick to let its narcissus neighbour know.
I’ve asked around and it seems that yes, being happy is a trait most hyacinths possess. The ones in this park at any rate.
That’s amazing! The narcissus feels a bit awe-struck, as it’s not sure that it is always happy, or that the other narcissi are either. At least not permanently.
And what about you? You seem a very happy narcissus. Are all of your friends just as happy as you?
The narcissus is a little shocked at the hyacinth’s question. Doesn’t it know that it is its very own kind who have the reputation for being happy? Not the narcissi. But then the bright, yellow flower realises that it is, in fact, feeling very cheerful. And it knows the other narcissi are as well. It can feel it. Lots of them have even said as much this past day or so. Now that you mention it, at the moment, all of my friends and I are indeed very happy. The narcissus feels good responding in this way. If anything, it makes it feel a little happier still.
The hyacinth, unsurprisingly, responds just as one might expect a very happy flower to. That’s wonderful! Long may you continue to feel just the same way!
———————-
The following weeks bring an ever-increasing number of visitors to the park. Lengthy daylight hours and sunshine will tend to do that for any nature-based setting. Each day, the newly trimmed bushes, the narcissi and the hyacinth all feel just as happy as they did the one before, if not a little more. Their happiness, evidenced by their vibrant colours and vitality, help the visitors to feel happy. And of course, the visitors’ smiles make the bushes and flowers feel even more cheery too.
Anyone watching the scene, at least in this part of the park, might wonder where such happiness came from and whether it is always there. Is it something in the air perhaps? Is it down purely to the sunshine? Perhaps it is the combination of radiant yellow and intense pink which help to generate this sense of delight?
It is, naturally, all of these that contribute to the overall feeling of great joy. The whole being greater than the sum of the parts, it is testament to the manner in which happiness breeds further happiness, joy births more joy. Though of course for this to happen, there must be some happiness, some joy, in the first place. And in this park, in this particular part of it at least, the happiness which is now felt by all is the result of an initial dose of joy, offered up by a flower which is celebrated for feeling this way. The happy hyacinths stand where they have always been and spend their days radiating the happiness that is an innate part of their being. As they do, those around them may not be fully aware of the debt of gratitude they owe them. But it does not matter. All that matters is that their happiness has spread so significantly, until everyone – everything – that is connected to them is feeling it too.