Sunday, April 13, 2014

Crocus and Daffodil

Daffodils - May Swenson
Yellow telephones
in a row in the garden
are ringing,
shrill with light.

Old-fashioned spring
brings earliest models out
each April the same,
naïve and classical.

Look into the yolk-
colored mouthpieces
alert with echoes.
Say hello to time. 


Yes!  They're here!  And oh, it feels like we've waited so long for them!  You can see by my picture that I have been remiss in thinning and replanting the bulbs.  Somehow, I always seem to miss the window of time that I'm supposed to do that.  I am promising myself, right now, that I will do it this year.  And spread the joy.

Because that's what daffodils bring.  Joy!  How can you not feel optimistic when you gaze upon those yellow trumpets of happiness?  Daffodils are only the beginning.  Following on their heels are the tulips, the myrtle, the primroses, the tiger lilies, the tea roses, the black-eyed Susans, the echinacea, the climatis, the autumn joy . . . so much beauty!  Ah, summer!

I debated about whether I should fall in love with daffodils or crocus for this post, as they are both harbingers of spring.  And I thought why not both?  For exactly that reason.  So here, getting equal time, are some of my crocuses. 

Ah, spring!  I am so in love!

1 comment:

  1. But what about:

    I wandered 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 stretched 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.

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