It’s spring — that season of newness, freshness, and quiet beginnings. It seemed the perfect time to share a story from Jaroldeen Asplund Edwards’ book The Daffodil Principle, because it beautifully illustrates something I’ve come to believe deeply: that lasting change happens 1% at a time. Not in grand gestures or overnight transformations, but in small, consistent efforts that grow into something magnificent. The story below is a beautiful illustration of this life-changing principle
Daffodil Garden
Several times, my daughter had telephoned to say, “Mother, you must come and see the daffodils before they are over.” “I will come next Tuesday,” I promised…
We parked in a small parking lot adjoining a little stone church. On the far side of the church, I saw a pine-needle-covered path, with towering evergreens and manzanita bushes and an inconspicuous, lettered sign “Daffodil Garden.”
We each took a child’s hand, and I followed Carolyn down the path…Then we turned a corner…, and I looked up and gasped. Before me lay the most glorious sight, unexpectedly and completely splendid. It looked as though someone had taken a great vat of gold and poured it down over the mountain peak and slopes, where it had run into every crevice and over every rise. The flowers were planted in majestic, swirling patterns, great ribbons, and swaths of deep orange, white, lemon yellow, salmon pink, saffron, and butter yellow.
“But who has done this?” I asked Carolyn. I was overflowing with gratitude that she brought me…This was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
“It’s just one woman,” Carolyn answered. “She lives on the property. That’s her home.” Carolyn pointed to a well-kept A-frame house that looked small and modest in the midst of all that glory.
We walked up to the house, my mind buzzing with questions. On the patio, we saw a poster. “Answers to the Questions 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 a life-changing experience. I thought of this woman whom I had never met, who, more than thirty-five years before, had begun – one bulb at a time – to bring her vision of beauty and joy to an obscure mountain top. One bulb at a time. There was no other way to do it. No shortcuts – simply loving the slow process of planting. Loving the work as it unfolded. Loving an achievement that grew so slowly and that bloomed for only three weeks of each year.
Still, just planting one bulb at a time, year after year, had changed the world. She had created something of ineffable magnificence, beauty, and inspiration. The principle her daffodil garden taught is one of the greatest principles of celebration: learning to move toward our goals and desires one step at a time – often just one baby-step at a time – learning to love the doing, learning to use the accumulation of time.
When we multiply tiny pieces of time with small increments of daily effort, we too will find we can accomplish magnificent things. We can change the world.
The thought of it filled my mind. I was suddenly overwhelmed with the implications of what I had seen. “It makes me sad in a way,” I admitted to Carolyn. “What might I have accomplished if I had thought of a wonderful goal thirty-five years ago and had worked away at it ‘one bulb at a time’ through all those years? Just think what I might have been able to achieve!”
My wise daughter put the car into gear and summed up the message of the day in her direct way. “Start tomorrow,” she said with the same knowing smile she had worn for most of the morning. Oh, profound wisdom!
What I Have Learned
In my 76 years, I’ve never seen anything truly great happen in a single burst. Every worthy goal, every beautiful thing built — a family raised, a skill developed, a grief endured — was accomplished through small steps, taken one at a time, for as long as it took. That is the 1% Principle, and it has become one of the truest guides of my life.
Here’s what it means in practice: rather than trying to fix or change everything at once, you focus on the best 1% — the one thing most worth improving right now. What I’ve found is that real progress in that one area quietly lifts everything else around it. You don’t have to splinter your attention across every problem. Consistent, focused effort on the right 1% creates momentum that spreads.
The woman in that daffodil garden didn’t set out to create a masterpiece in a season. She just planted one bulb. Then another. For 35 years. And the mountain was transformed.
The article I had prepared to post on November 30, 2025, had been published in 2017. My Excel sheet wasn’t as in order as it needed to be. Instead of getting another article ready at the last minute, I wrote a note to my readers and sent it out via the Sunday newsletter. It made an impact, and I got emails. I realized that I had written an article with an important message without even knowing it. So, I’m posting it on the website and recording it. If it helped last Sunday, then it may be of help in the future. So here you go:
Several years ago, I wrote an article about
In an article I wrote in September 2024, titled
This week, I had an experience that brought to mind the importance of letting our kids know, daily, that we see them and that they matter. It brought back many memories of families I have worked with, parents I have mentored, and the huge impact I’ve seen when
Recently, I wrote about principles that I consider powerful for a healthier and happier family life. Last week, we delved into principles one and two. Today, I will share information and examples on principles three and four.
As I’ve mentioned before, there’s a story that has caused me grief. I’ve worked on rewriting it, but it continues to morph as I move into my 9th year of caregiving. Despite the work I’ve done and the changes I’ve made, it still rears its ugly head and causes negative emotions. When it does, I take immediate control and look at how the story has changed. It’s annoying and sometimes exhausting to rework an old story, but this one has been particularly tough. I suspect that’s because, as a caregiver, I live a life that makes it easy for the story to creep in.
A few days before my 54th anniversary, May 28th, I spoke to my good friend, Joy. I had been down with bronchitis for three weeks. I was challenged to keep up with caregiving and was feeling down, not at all like myself.

I have had this recurring thought in the last five years – “Why are you writing? You aren’t raising kids anymore. You aren’t homeschooling. You’re getting older. Are you even relevant?” Then I get an email from a young mom thanking me for helping her see what she couldn’t see, or from an older mother or grandmother thanking me for reminding her of what she already knew.