Daffodil time

Golden in the morning light,

waving in the gentle breeze,

a trumpet voluntary of  Spring.


Mum's daffs

Often, it is only after something you took for granted is gone that you truly appreciate its worth and beauty. Growing up, every spring was filled with daffodils in varied shades and shapes. They followed where the snowdrops fled, in stands of bright yellows, pale whites, lemon and gold, nodding in the wind. We have filled churches with them for Mother’s Day, festooned vestibules to welcome Brides and gifted them to elderly ladies. Accompanied by a friend from the city to gather flowers for a service; she stood stock still overcome by the sheer bliss and joy of a field of flowers. She couldn’t believe her eyes! Looking at the photo again I realise just how precious it was and I miss the huge variety of flowers our parents grew.

With each spring we discover new and varied blooms within our garden, although the white daffodil I meant to rescue from the composter last year is surprisingly yellow this! With the warmth and sunshine of the last days of March, the daffodils have broken out into yellow cheerfulness, bejewelled with sparkling raindrops as April showers come our way…

New growth is everywhere, from the pink butterbur (Petasites hybridus) pushing through the cold, damp ground, adding new leaves of bright green as the flowers fade. In the past the large leaves were used to wrap butter, and as a remedy for migraines, allergies and nasal congestion. Ground elder has spread everywhere and unfortunately the “gardening girls” don’t seem to enjoy it; maybe I could interest a chef from a fashionable restaurant to serve it as a vegetable? (Another common name is Bishop’s weed as it was traditionally a remedy for gout.) Forget-me-not peeks out amongst the Aquilegia as the fat bumble bee visits the few flowers providing nectar.

Oscar pleads for a walk in the rain-soaked garden, he doesn’t seem to mind standing in the wet as he listens attentively to the rustling of the leaves in the hope that a vole or shrew give away their hiding place. Taking on the air of a Pointer he stands, foot raised, ready to ambush the quivering tussock of grass. Pairs of chaffinch, blue tits, great tits, gold finch seem unperturbed by his presence and come perilously close before darting away.

The grass has had its first cut, seeds are pushing through the soil, new leaves on the whitethorn and blackthorn, as the leaves on the roses unfurl in deep red and green. From the shelter of the pine trees the pheasant calls his harem as a young female breaks cover and runs across the garden. The garden is alive with new growth, birdsong, and the beech leaves swell and fatten on the twig. Very soon the apple and cherry blossom will break too; and I can try that new recipe for cherry blossom syrup!

 Thanks for stopping by; enjoy the changing season, whether it is to new life or winters sleep.