100
Days of Daffodils
Nothing says spring to
me more than blooming bulbs, especially daffodils or "daffs" as we
lovingly call them around our house. When I was pregnant with my son and
crazy with nesting energy I dug out a large border in our backyard and planted
a swath of bulbs, a whole bushel actually. Months later, with my new babe
in arms, I enjoyed a party of daffodils dancing in my backyard all spring
long. The collection included an
assortment of early, mid, and late blooming flowers, all unfurling their yellow
and cream ruffles at varying intervals.
I can still see their little heads bobbing in the soft spring breeze, their
creamy and yellow cups spilling sweetness.
It’s three years later
and we have traded the seaside for our backyard. The daffodils stayed in the ground and while
I miss not having a plot to plant in, the sweet memories of that time unfurl in
my mind when I spy a little pot of daffs on my table from Trader Joe’s. I see my daughter, then three, gathering a
bunch of gold for Mommy. I see my baby
boy so soft and sweet in my arms. Today
as the April wind blows stiff whitecaps on the face of sea, I smile on that sweet
season and am at once thankful for the time of daffodils, sometimes sprawled
out in the ground or in the wee pot on the table.
April is National
Poetry month, so I’ll be sprinkling some of my favorites here, like this one:
Daffodils
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
William Wordsworth
If you would like to mark your fall calendar to remind you
plant some daffs, checkout my favorite source!
http://www.dutchbulbs.com/product/100_Days_of_Daffodils/Daffodils
