When all at once...



...I saw a crowd of golden daffodils.

I'm not sure why every year it comes as such a delightful surprise, but it does.  Those golden daffodils...starting as green sword shaped leaves pushing themselves through the earth.  When they do I know spring is getting close, and as they get taller and taller I scrutinize each patch looking for buds. It seems each year there are not going to be any. Then one morning I see bulges at the ends of some of them, and day by day they crook over and I know something wonderful is going to happen.

This morning, I can barely wait.  The bulges have grown and are turning yellow, there are dozens of them.  Come golden daffodils...hurry...fast.  I planted the bulbs years ago, and I've done nothing to encourage their growth, yet on their own they've multiplied, so that in a week or so my front yard flower garden will be filled with sunshine yellow. There are enough this year I'm even willing to share some of them so that slugs can have a picnic.

It's strange, no matter how cold, how warm, how wet or how dry the winter is those charming bulbs know exactly what to do and when to do it.  All I have to do is practice patience,  and impatiently wait for the miracle to happen.  Oh, and it will...it is.

I hope my golden blooms bring joy to my neighbors, too, as they walk or drive by. It's my gift to them, and here's a gift for you...I know you saw this coming....

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.  

William Wordsworth
1770-1850