She wore her yellow sun-bonnet,
A. A. Milne
She wore her greenest gown;
She turned to the south wind
And curtsied up and down.
She turned to the sunlight
And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbour:
“Winter is dead.”
Here’s my story of daffodils…
When I was very young (5-6 probably), one of my favorite things was to look for the bright yellow tufts of early spring peeking through the overgrown woods near my home in the country. Each new patch of green, scattered with golden glint, lit up a spark of excitement within me. I would take home my clusters of feathery treasures, my hands sticky with the sap from the stems, and savor my handful of spring.
During the years since, I still turn giddy at my first sighting of daffodils each spring. I love the image of zealous springtime spirit, their leaves being one of the first to erupt from the ground and scream “it’s time!!!” Winter seems to drag on and some small silliness in the back your mind almost doubts the coming of spring. Then comes the daffodil to offer an early balm for your yearning.
Hunting daffodils in the woods near my childhood home has been a long-standing tradition for me. It’s a joy that my mom and now my children and my nieces and nephews enjoy. Nana loads up willing grandchildren in the ATV and we drive down the road to daffodil dreamland to gather loads of proud petals. I giddily attempt photograph the beautiful blooms along with the cute kiddos while also trying to pluck my own tall treasures. Then we head back home to enjoy them as long as we can and I head back to the city with another bunch of memories.
When the season is done it can be a little sad, but by that point the daffodils have done their job and other flowers begin to spring up, following her lead. But not before gifting me with photos of our faithful frontrunners.
2023
2022
