Dancing with the Daffodils

It was cold, gray and windy today.  But it was warm and sunny last month, prompting me to order a large box full of daffodil and tulip bulbs from White Flower Farm. A long rain on Thanksgiving day and the promise of free labor was all I needed to decide that today was the day to get started on planting the bulbs. With a fair amount of cajoling, I talked all three of the kids into going out to the farm with me to plant daffodil bulbs.

Once we figured out four pair of mud boots, we were on our way. Maggie and Mary had not been out to the farm since before we broke ground so I was anxious to show them the progress on the house.

Did I mention that it was cold, gray and windy today?

Jack did most of the digging; Mary did most of the planting; and Maggie announced that she was on "vacation." A promise of a Blizzard stop at Dairy Queen was made to keep the pace up. We planted about 100 bulbs beside the lake, beneath the trees. Jack has committed to coming back out with me later this week to plant the remaining bulbs at the front entrance. Hard work? Yes. But, there is nothing more joyful than seeing "a crowd, a host, of golden daffodils."

Daffodils

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.

              – William Wordsworth