I'm not one for reading author's notes myself, so I'll make this one brief: The cited passages are from the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, using Gregory Nagy's translation.
1. "She was picking flowers: roses, crocus, and beautiful violets. Up and down the soft meadow. Iris blossoms too she picked, and hyacinth. And the narcissus, which was grown as a lure for the flower-faced girl..."
Ginny wrote of the sense of anticipation as she would watch rain run in rivers down the glass windows of the Burrow. She described innocent afternoons spent with Luna, gathering the wildflowers that would burst into bloom following those spring showers. She blushed furiously as she recounted how angry her mother had been upon seeing the mud tracked in by the two girls, lost in their own wonder over some new flower they had discovered. Rose-tinted memories bled ink into the diary, only to be drunk up by the pages as she anxiously waited for him to respond. The power she thought she held over him felt heady, heavy in her abdomen, like the feeling of picking a flower, choosing to end its life for her own amusement. After years of enduring the endless, obsessive love her mother could inflict upon her, the sensation of control over another person had her wound up in knots. In the end, the control was only a farce, a false narcissus over a groaning maw of endless guilt and shame. She was Persephone, the white of her shortened maiden's chiton stained with the proof of her loss of innocence. But not stained with pomegranate juice. Not yet.