Daffodil

I can never resist the green stalks of the daffodils at Trader Joe's. I don't even look at the price. I just buy three or four bundles at a time. There is something about the tightly closed buds that bloom into sunshine as soon as I get home and put them in a jug of water. The environmental activist in me cringes a little when I think of how far these flowers have traveled to reach me, all the petrol and resources, etc. Yet, that voice is silenced as I scoop up a handful of daffodils. After reading The Flower Confidential by Amy Stewart, I am ever mindful of what it takes for a bunch of flowers to travel to our local florist or supermarket. I try to fill the house with flowers and greens from the yard, but the daffodil, and the peony, always tug at my heart. So here are the first of the daffodils to grace our house this year. Enjoy!


"Daffodils" (1804)

I Wander'd lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

By William Wordsworth (1770-1850).