Daffy-down-dilly has come up to town
In a fine petticoat and a green gown.
We sang this in kindergarten or first grade and in grade six we wandered lonely as clouds encountering “A host, of golden daffodils”. Both always comes to mind this time of year, as the daffodils begin to bloom.
As a child, it seemed there was only one kind of daffodil, that classic yellow bloom. There are lots of these in my neighborhood, brightening up a grey Pacific NW day.
Nowadays, there are several varieties. Walking Lucy around the neighborhood, I come across many of them
These are on the corner, across the street from where I live. Later in the year, after the daffodils have gone, snowberries will thane their place.
I really like the two toned varieties. Various neighbors have them in large and small sizes, but act like sunshine in sparse spring gardens.
Two blocks away, our neighbors who have a Great Dane named Lucy, and these delicate beauties.
These look especially delicate, glowing more like pale moonlight that the sun.
These frilly petticoats bring joy to my heart.
I am especially fond of the boldness of these colors.
Although many daffodils are planted separately in yards, others are planted in mixed groups in parking strips. Daffodils just fit in everywhere.
Lucy enjoys them, too, though perhaps not for the same reason I do.