Daffodil Hill

Would you believe that daffodils brought us to live in San Andreas? Or that Arthur wanted to give me a house in the hills for Mother’s Day? Or that Arthur and I got carried away with romance last spring in these beautiful hills and valleys and decided to start newlywed life again?

No, I didn’t think you would, but it was a bit of all three and a whole lot more.

Thus starts a mini-autobiography that I found in my grandmother’s papers. I was intrigued – wouldn’t you be? – especially after finding a clue in the last paragraph she wrote:

Last November I cut an article from the paper on Daffodil Hill. I wrote on it, “Take trip next March,” and filed it in the drawer labeled “Trips to Take – Sometime.”

Since her newspaper article was most likely published in 1978, I didn’t expect to find it, but I was hopeful I could find something, and I was successful. Unfortunately, what I discovered is that after last season (2019), Daffodil Hill closed indefinitely, and visitors are no longer allowed. However, you can still take a do-it-yourself virtual tour, and that way you won’t hurt the infrastructure or the environment. Start at their FaceBook page, or this Instagram site, then check out this blog post. I particularly appreciated this article, which gives a history of the McLaughlin property. That led me to discover that Lizzie van Vorst McLaughlin and my grandmother are seventh cousins, twice removed – although through her adoptive line. (However, her biological aunt did marry a McLaughlin, so maybe there is a connection there somewhere as well.)

It looks like they did make that March visit to Daffodil Hill, driving through San Andreas along the way, because they fell in love with the area and purchased a retirement home there. 

I remember visiting as a teenager and loving the fact that we could walk to town to explore the quaint shops or meander through the cemetery.

Note: If you’d like to read the entire autobiography – which is about 3 pages long – I’ve attached it to her Memories page on FamilySearch.

Part of her handwritten pages – It’s typed up on FamilySearch.