Perennial daffodils in our garden are living proof that the wheel has turned and we are heading for another summer. Of course, winter may yet exhale its dying breaths because that is what March and early April frequently permit.
This is not the first time that I have blogged about daffodils. Back in March 2017, I even posted a self-penned poem called "Daffodils". That was eight years ago.
It is likely that daffodil bulbs were first brought to The British Isles by Romans almost two thousand years ago. Furthermore, it is believed that all daffodil species had their origins in a few wild varieties that grew in the woods of the Iberian peninsula (Spain & Portugal) and northern Morocco.
It is hard to imagine these British islands off the edge of Europe without daffodils. They are gaudy, vigorous flowers that trumpet defiantly to the world. There's no subtle delicacy about them. They shout out, "We are yellow and we are strong!"
Many is the year that our daffodils have poked their heads from the ground far too early - before wintertime was even half done. You might think they would be killed off by snow and freezing temperatures but they always defy logic and come bursting through yet again with an harmonious "Ta-da!"
The images of this year's crop were snapped on Wednesday afternoon. They flourish in the shelter of a privet hedge - one of the sunniest spots in our garden. By July they will be retreating to the earth from whence they came but I have no doubt whatsoever that they will be back again next year.

from Yorkshire Pudding https://ift.tt/9StuzlF