It’s been quite a week here, weather-wise. Thunder yesterday, hail the day before that, and today it’s been rain and fog. But I still know it’s spring, because…
I have my first daffodil!
Since we moved into this house in December, the garden at the time was an unknown quantity. All I could see then were the dead stalks of last year’s growth and some old and rusting garden ornaments, so I had no idea what was going to come up this spring. A few weeks ago I went out and cleared all the junk and dead stems to make space for the new growth, and since then I’ve been enthralled watching everything slowly unfurl and identify itself.
But while daffodils were a predictable feature – there’s hardly a garden in England that doesn’t have a few somewhere, and there are scores of them up and down the village already – there’s a special joy to seeing your very own first one open. Snowdrops tell you spring is thinking about coming, but the daffodils are the gods’ own golden trumpets to tell you it’s arrived. Even if the weather seems to disagree, it’s spring, everyone. I have a daffodil. And better yet, I’ve got another dozen or so that are still to open:
Going to be lovely by this time next week, that is. Although I really hope the weather by then has brightened up again:
If it does, I’ll be going on some more adventures next week, so stay tuned!