In Praise of Daffodils by Julia Jones
Splashes of vivid yellow against a dull fence. Clumps and lines of bright trumpets assertive in an empty garden. Whether or not daffodils have been invited or encouraged, for the last two months they have been all around us. By road sides, pushing their way up through dead leaves and scattered twigs, disregarding litter or neglect, gathered in handfuls for jam jars on window sills. Daffodils are such generous flowers. Even when they’re sold in mean little bundles, elastic-banded together, their flowers tight-shut as if traumatised bring them home, give them just the minimum of light and warmth and water and within hours they will be opening out, sharing their glorious, life-affirming colour. For I, the lent lily, the Daffadowndilly, Have heard through the country the call to arouse. The orchards are ringing with voices a-singing The praise of my petticoat, praise of my gown. The children are playing and hark! they are saying That Daffy-down-dilly is come up to town!...