48/52: breath of spring

As Spring draws to a close, I fondly remember the daffodils which heralded the arrival of the season. I have oft-repeated my love of bulbs, for their tenacity and continuous consistency, so let’s revisit a host of golden daffodils.

a host of golden daffodils

One year I splurged and bought some designer daffodil bulbs, shown below.

an unusual daffodil

Enjoy one last look at a daffodil, because before we know it, Christmas will be upon us!

daffodil close up

228/366: daffy-down-dilly

Daffy-down-dilly, which sounds a trifle bizarre, was apparently the original name for the daffodil, which belongs to the Amaryllis family, genus Narcissi, a trumpet-flowered English bulb.

Being the middle of August, with all these daffodils on display, shows that spring is just around the corner. Yippee! I’m not really a winter person, but it probably makes us appreciate the warmer weather more.

While taking these photos, Zorro deigned to pose with the daffodils to add his majestic black and white poise as a counter-balance to the delightful yellowness that is a daffodil.

170/366: the promise of spring

Although we have not passed the winter equinox here in Australia, on this cool winter’s day out in the garden there is evidence of new life emerging.

The tips of the daffodil bulbs that I relocated are poking through the potting mix with their wonderful promise of spring. Perhaps they are a little slower in growing due to the move?

I have others in pots or in the garden proper.

Interestingly, there is one that seems to be streets ahead of the others in terms of development. Could it be the variety, its age, or the placement?

I look forward to that first daffodil, but it’s usually August before that happens, but you never know with all these freakish weather changes. It will happen when they are good and ready.

 

120/366: daffodil discovery

Today, when I finally planted the daffodil bulbs I dug up from the front garden over a month ago (see day 74/366: let’s lift bulbs), I made a discovery.

Preparing the garden bed, I removed weeds and some tubers from a nearby vigorous variegated plant. While immersed in the proceedings, my hand suddenly felt something soft. It gave me a fright, so I was quite glad I was wearing protective gardening gloves.

I felt a little like an archaeologist, uncovering a fascinating object from the past, although this was a living thing. Dusting him off very gently, I tried to take a better shot, as he was camouflaged quite well.

I returned to my task and next time I looked he had hopped away. Shortly he disappeared; a frog without a pond.

Then I returned to ready the bulbs for planting. As I had dug over the soil very well, this was not an arduous task. Looking forward to the outcome,  the phrase “.. a host of golden daffodils” was brought to mind, a line from Wordsworth’s poem.

In Spring I hope to have a display of daffodils, although I’m not sure whether they may need a year to settle into their new surroundings before flowering. By September my question will be answered.