Sunday, March 6, 2011


Old man winter will soon suffer death by daffodil.  Blooms are in the late-planning stage on Waverly Lane, as my hopes for another deep snow are giving in to anticipation of gardens to come.  When the yellow and white tide arrives, the pall of winter's depression will lift and we'll all be ready for Spring.

Daffodils Facing the Sun

When I was a child, everyone in these parts had daffodils - including my parents, who shipped and sold some from our acreage of flowers.  The weather was always temperamental in our flower field and the March wind blew from every direction, including straight up and down.  One year I picked so many, I became sensitized to the pollen and developed a wheeze.  My parents were unimpressed.  I didn't die, but the end of "flower season" was cause to celebrate for me.  Some poor souls developed "flower poisoning," which resulted when flower sap managed to insinuate itself in an opening of the skin.

Later Varieties Have Sweeter Fragrance

Our current crop is long neglected, but we still manage to pick some, sell some and give away some.  They have returned to the wild on Waverly Lane.

Mrs. Backhouse with Salmon Pink Trumpet

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