Tuesday, April 07, 2009

May as well be hanged...

...for a whole bunch of narcissus as a daffodil.
These are some which delight every year, but I haven't mentioned before. They are from an old bulb, from some that the old lady who owned this house before us had growing here and there in the vegetable patch beside the house. It's found a purchase in a patch of leaf-mould and run-off in a corner between a low kerb and the corrugated iron door of the garage we haven't yet got around to demolishing (the one I walk on to point the gable end of the house). Tom keeps saying he's going to dig them up and put them in the garden proper, but that hasn't yet happened, and in truth, I think the bulb is probably well lodged under the metal and wouldn't be easy to remove. In addition, there's the root system of a foxglove which flowers later in the year - you can see its leaves below the daffy, and the brown stalk coming up through the middle is last year's flower stem - and various things like herb robert and dandelion and sow thistle which join the party later.

It has grown and flourished over the years, and now always produces at least six flowers. With their tangerine trumpets and creamy petals, they are luminously pretty. Some years I just admire them where they are, and sometimes I cut them and bring them in, though I always leave the plant one of its own, to cherish and focus on, so as not to grieve, and also because cut flowers should always come in odd numbers

This year, seeing as how I'm not getting out to sample the joys of spring quite as much just at the moment, I cut them and put them on the table, with some of the others from the garden, some pink zebra grass and other bits and pieces, and some forget-me-nots which the Serious Gardener also considers to be misbehaving and misplaced upstarts, but for which, again, I plead mercy and a stay of execution.

Jocund company to be sure, and as Lucas pointed out, Narcissus has two faces; their wind-denying obverse side is almost as lovely as their open front face.


I have posted my reply to Joe's question over at Compasses.


Zhoen said...


The Crow said...

Your photographs always add another dimension to what you write, and I appreciate your artistry. Today, I am taken by the third photograph in particular. Wonderful composition and color, Lucy. Thank you.

christopher said...

My Garden

I am not a real
gardener because I leave
stuff alone, where it
finds root without me
and call that good enough, then
defend as if I
chose those plants in those
places, as if I could plan
better than God plans.

Granny J said...

never, never apologize for daffodils, Lucy. Spring needs them.

Crafty Green Poet said...

what a lovely series of photos... daffodils and narcissi are lovely flowers

meggie said...

How very lovely!

apprentice said...

I have these too, and like yours they are from the original planting in the garden by the original, and only other, family to own this house.

In a very unpoetic way I call them my fried egg daffs, because the yolks look so golden you feel you could dip a toast soldier into them.

Unknown said...

Last year, for some reason, some of us began to apologise for daffodils. I think now that your photographs are persuasive enough to learn to love them, and narcissus, once again.

vicki johnson said...

Love these images...and i'll say again...i have no idea why one feels the need to apologize for daffodils...i think a huge portion of my soul would shrivel up and die if something robbed me of them. Those who do not find joy in daffodils must be the saddest sort of cynics.

As your photos so clearly show...there is always a new light, a new angle that one has never seen before. If one gives up delighting in daffodils...if one turns away saying "if you've seen one you've seen them all", then one might as well admit their heart is slowly calcifying, turning cold, rejecting the simple joys.

No one ever need apologize for loving and delighting in daffodils.

The Joined up Cook said...

Daffodils are the first real "show"

Before them you get snowdrops who mimic the cold in their whiteness and crocuses who skulk defiantly at ground level against the cold.

Daffodils are the first flowers to stand proud; even their shape is that of a trumpet.

Their exuberance is what is so special; a celebration that winter is over for another year.

KIM-QOAS said...

The flowers are adorable and you make them looking more lovely through your photos, well done!

Pam said...

One can never have too many daffodils, in my opinion. Jocund indeed and a joy to the coloured-starved eyes after the dark days of winter.

Michelle said...

Beautiful, beautiful, Lucy.

Hope you're all better and having a good weekend.