On the weekend, my heart was dancing with Wordsworthian glee. There weren’t ten thousand daffodils in bloom but there were far more than I wanted to count.
For the last umpteen years, we’ve been planting daffodils on the berm above the Skating Pond. I’ve never ordered single varieties, always choosing instead to use the less expensive mixed varieties that are packaged in the hundreds. So I can’t identify any of the particular varieties with certainty.
And that doesn’t bother me. I don’t care about what they are called. Instead I simply delight in the beauty of each.
The daffodils with orange coronas aren’t my favourite but they definitely stand out from the solid yellows.
And while it is a delight to stand beside the Skating Pond and look one way, it is almost a shock to turn and look the other. The berm shows spring in full colour; across the water, the slope covered with feather reed grass (Calamagrostis ‘Karl Foerster‘) still looks like winter.
But mostly it is the promise of spring with summer to come that makes my heart dance. In the woods where the wild garlic grows so profusely, spring beauties (Claytonia caroliniana) are carpeting the forest floor.
They are dainty flowers, easily missed unless you are looking for them, but when you do, when you examine them close up, their appearance more than justifies their name.
Also blooming in the woods are yellow trout lilies (Erythronium americanum). The flowers aren’t as numerous as I’d like but the speckled leaves that give the plant its common name are everywhere.
Also growing only in patches — not in the woods but in the garden — is giant butterbur (Petasites japonicus). I love its emerging appearance, soft little cushions with squishable pins. Soon the flowers will show themselves, then the broad green leaves that last throughout the summer.
But it is the daffodils that most delight. They bloom in large clumps on both sides of our driveway, lighting up the hillside. They seem to be blooming more abundantly this year than they usually do — but perhaps I’m seeing this only because I want to.
I am photographing the view from strategic spots to know where I will add more bulbs in the fall. Doing this gives me a boost now when my spirits can drop. (Cold temperatures today, and snow — yes, snow! — predicted for later in the week.)
But overall, as the garden continues to emerge from winter, I’m feeling optimistic. We will survive.