If someone asked me what my favourite flower was, I’d probably say the daffodil. But there are so any types of daffodil or narcissus that that isn’t a particularly helpful answer.
True, there are very few daffodils that I don’t like, and if someone were to give me a bunch of King Alfreds or Pheasant Eyes or even the fluffy looking Cheerfulness, I’d probably be equally delighted.
But the Bible tells us “To every thing there is a season” and I definitely associate daffodils with spring time. I’m always a bit disturbed when they appear in the shops in the weeks before Christmas and I don’t like the fact that they’ve begun to make their appearance as a feature in winter flower arrangements. So daffodils in August was something I had never contemplated.
And yet this morning I saw some unmistakable daffs in a shop window and had to pause to take a photograph.
The shop had presumably closed when we went into lockdown at the end of March and the flowers were just left in a vase. It’s a sunny corner, so I guess the water evaporated before anything nasty started to grow.
I already knew that I liked most types of daffodil. I hadn’t realised that I would find dead daffs equally beautiful.