Mrs. Stevens

My niece asked me to act as Master of Ceremonies at her wedding and as I have great respect for the young woman, I reluctantly agreed and the wedding went along very nicely.
When it came time for me to introduce the speakers, as a warm-up, I handed her a small pot with some daffodil bulbs in it.
Then I told her [including the audience] about a woman who had inspired me.
Not so long ago, as a young forest ranger my job included converting marginal farmland into sustainable, productive pine forest.
In 1965 there was an enclosure within the forest of about forty acres situated on Middle Ridge Road. The area was mainly gorse and there was a small homestead made from native timbers. To the South there was a hugely overgrown Macrocarpa hedge, and as it was spring, there was a mass display of old fashioned daffodils.
We cut down the Macrocarpa hedge and dismantled the old homestead, which while sturdy, was of no use to us.
About a year later, I was checking on the progress of some trees to the East of the old homestead and came across a rock bluff that previous landowners had used as their rubbish tip. At the bottom of the bluff I found an assortment of artifacts, among them a black button-up shoe that I guessed belonged to Mrs. Stephens. I decided to ask old-timers of the district what is known of the Stephens.
Records available to me showed that Nathaniel (Nat) Stephens had bought the property during 1920 and had built the small homestead. It was a simple one-roomed hut at first, until his wife arrived.
Sadly nobody could recall the Christian name of Mrs. Stephens, but many knew the legend.
Nat sent [home] to England for his family to find him a wife!
A young woman was chosen and was married by proxy to Nat in the local English village. The new Mrs. Stephens wore her wedding ring on her finger during the long voyage to New Zealand.
She spent one night in Christchurch, at the dry hotel called The People’s Palace and caught the steam train the next morning to the Otepopo Station, Herbert, North Otago.
It is presumed Nat had sent detailed directions, because he never met her, nor did she have contact with anyone. And following the route to the farm is no mean feat!
This brave young woman carried one bag with her and walked down Glencoe Road, then down to the river, where there is a ford. She waded through the river and climbed up the steep, roughly formed Middle Ridge Road, to Nat’s hut.
She went up to the door and knocked! When Nat opened the door, man and wife met for the first time!
That journey from the station to the homestead would have been arduous and no doubt daunting!
I have covered the journey on horseback and it took me more than three hours! It would have taken Mrs. Stephens much longer!
In Mrs Stephens’ bag, she carried some daffodil bulbs from her mother’s garden, in England. those daffodils  flourished  around the old homestead on Middle Ridge Road.
Have no doubt; the Stephens faced hardship, as conditions were primitive with no electricity and only unreliable rainwater. The distant creek was also unreliable during summer droughts.
None of those daffodils flower there today after two crops of pine forest, but some of us kept bulbs to remind us of the brave Mrs. Stephens.
While the flowers are not spectacular, they are special and I do not part with these bulbs easily.
I hope you find this story inspirational and that the bulbs multiply to give you both joy.
Nat and Mrs. Stephens had seven children.