Since trading an urban lifestyle for rural life in Cassville more than twenty years ago, I am still learning to settle into the rhythms of springtime in the Ozarks. 

Over time, I have become familiar with the many annual “announcements” that signal the season’s arrival. Recently, when I expressed alarm over an overwhelming and pungent skunk odor lingering in my yard, a friend calmly reassured me not to worry. It was simply “skunk season.” He explained it away as a time when skunks are particularly busy following nature’s timetable.

Truth be told, I have come to enjoy observing nature’s timetable and the parade of seasonal changes that accompany it. In the city, the shift into spring often felt limited to the most obvious signs like leaves unfurling on trees or dandelions dotting suburban lawns. Here in the Ozarks, however, the warming temperatures and thawing waters bring a much richer ensemble of transitions. One highlight is the moment when the frog “peepers” begin their symphony. Depending on the species of frog or toad, their calls which are intended to attract a mate, range from drawn-out “w-a-a-a-h” sounds to raspy “crrreek” notes, cheerful “prrreep” chirps, high piping whistles, or in the case of the bullfrog, deep, throaty croaks. Seasoned locals can identify the source of each voice and predict the order in which they will appear.  As for me, I simply take delight in the layered collage of sound.

Spring also paints the landscape in brilliant color. Bare winter limbs give way to blooming redbud and dogwood trees. Azalea and forsythia bushes brighten yards and fence rows. Mushrooms and mayapples push up through the forest floor to the delight of eager hunters. Birds begin nesting, orioles pause briefly on their migratory journeys, and robins and doves return to welcome the warm season.

Year after year, these natural cycles repeat. After winter’s long dormancy comes renewal. While driving along country roads, I have taken note of wide patches of golden daffodils blooming in places where no home now stands. Their presence sparked my curiosity. Who planted these bulbs in such seemingly random locations? I later learned they often mark the site of an old “homeplace” long since gone. I find myself wondering about the families who once lived there and what their days were like. What joys and struggles shaped their lives? In many cases, the only visible trace that remains is the cheerful gathering of daffodils faithfully returning each spring.

These reflections lead me to consider the treasures we leave behind.

I have collected meaningful items passed down from my parents and grandparents. Especially dear to me are the pieces that reflect who they were like a sentimental teapot, a cherished figurine, a vintage antique now considered a collectible. During holidays or anniversaries, when I miss them most, a simple glance at these keepsakes can bring a flood of memories and a measure of comfort. As I grow older and think about the legacy I might leave for the next generation, I sometimes wonder whether such possessions will be how I am remembered.

Material heirlooms, while precious, are not the most crucial legacy that endures. God remains consistently present, offering renewal and hope year after year. Scripture reminds us, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18  After the dark seasons of sorrow, grief, or challenge, God’s comforting presence does not fade. Instead, He restores and strengthens us in the present moment. 2 Corinthians 5:17 declares “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” These are powerful reminders that renewal including comfort from grief, isolation, and loss is always possible. 

So, I  find myself asking: What will the “beds of daffodils” that I plant look like years after my own homeplace is gone?

Perhaps the most meaningful legacy we can leave is a spiritual inheritance. Teaching our children and grandchildren to know and love God may hold greater value than any financial wealth we could pass along. Sharing wisdom, recounting the “glorious deeds of the Lord,” and modeling a life of integrity and faith can help ensure that future generations remain grounded in hope. Spiritual, moral, and emotional legacies often prove far more enduring than material success or reputation.

Jesus taught that true treasure is not measured by earthly possessions but by lasting spiritual impact. Perhaps when our hearts are centered on what is eternal, the example of how we live our lives and the depth of our connection to others can continue to bear fruit long after we are gone. In this way, the humble patches of roadside daffodils become more than seasonal decorations. They stand as quiet witnesses to lives once lived, love once shared, and faith that may have been planted deep in the soil of family and community.

Each spring as new blooms appear and the frogs begin their songs once again, I am reminded that God never fails to bring a new dawn, a new season of color, growth, and renewal. Long after houses crumble and keepsakes fade, His presence remains. 

That is the most comforting legacy of all.

Janet Mills is the director of Cassville Pantry, located at 800 W. 10th St. in Cassville. She may be reached at [email protected] or 417-846-7871