I’ve been keeping an eye on the daffs outside my window for the last month and wondering if they’d make it out in time.
In the end, despite showing colour for a week now, they haven’t. Perhaps later on today, if the sun keeps shining, they will unfurl their yellow flounces in celebration of St David’s day.
Mind you, they aren’t real daffs, anyway, as they are multi-petalled, double flowers, not the clear bright-trumpeted kind that line the road down to South Wales.
(For information about the wild daffodils of Britain, check out the I Hate Daffodils! website.)
The flower in the photo is neither a British wild daff, nor a pedigree King Alfred, but it is close to what I think a daffodil should look like. It, and the others like it, which grow up at the top of the garden, are usually a lot later than the ones outside my window, but this year this one has made a sterling effort and deserves a place on the blog.
Incidentally, I’ve just been reminded that Dewi Sant recommended his followers to drink only water, maybe flavoured with a few herbs, which doesn’t sound like much fun, nor much cause for celebration. Still, I shall certainly settle for tea or coffee until the sun is over the yard-arm.
don't confuse the narrator 