Because our lives are now crunchingly complicated and often difficult, I thought it might be helpful to remind ourselves that there are beautiful and comforting things to be found in our parks and gardens at this time of year.
So here is a blog about daffodils, they were my old darlings favourite flower because they were the first of the season and in his favourite colour. When we first moved into this house, the garden was still a field where oilseed rape grew among grass that was hip-high and the first thing he did once we’d settled in, was to start planning his garden. Everything in it had to be curved and rounded. Fish pond, soft fruit garden, flowerbeds, fruit trees, it was all there in his mind and as soon as it had been turned over and the lawn laid and a cricket pitch set out – because we had to have a cricket pitch naturally! – he went out to buy his favourite flowers. Or as he put it, ‘off to get a few daffs, little wooly Bear.’ I expected him to come home with a bag full but no, he arrived with three sack loads, for a ‘nice lot of variety’ and set about planting them all over the garden, where they bloom to this day 34 years later and bring colour to my Spring year after year.
And because he and I were not the only ones to be besotted by daffodils, I will finish off with another addict.
I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud by William Wordsworth
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.