It’s not even Valentine’s Day for crying out loud, and yet the daffodils scattered across our front yard are punching their way out of the cold, hard dirt, reaching up toward the sunshine. This resurrection is an even more rigorous task than usual for these flimsy green shoots because the mammoth Ash we had to bring low refused to go quietly and left in its wake piles of split logs, mulch ground from the small branches and a towering pile of shavings from the mother of all stumps we had to grind out of the earth if we ever wanted to have another tree make its home here again. Yesterday, a fellow moved a truckload of wood, and underneath crouched those defiant, dainty daffodils, bits of green hanging on for dear life, nearly flattened to the ground, but pushing forward slivers of yellow and white. What’s a couple tons of wood to a tough ol’ daffodil?
They’ve got spunk, these early-bird jonquils. After all this effort, they’re out there basking in the warm rays, all the while daring Old Man Winter to bring his worst. Surely somewhere in the flora’s biological memory, it knows the warmth is a ruse, that we’re not done with the serious cold snaps. Yet there they are, risk-takers with a flair. If these daffodils could make their way to Vegas, there’d be a crowd around their blackjack table for sure. They might lose every dime to their name, but they’d go down in a blaze of fury and glory.
Such beauty and tenderness, such courage and tenacity. I hope they make it through the coming weeks. But if they don’t, I will be grateful for their burn-in-the-wind life.
6 Replies to “Those Dogged Daffodils”
Love it..and the tenacity of these rogue daffodils
(If it were me I would cover them up)
They are rogue, for sure. A beautiful rogue.
Winn, your words are glorious. Here in Texas, my daffys are just clearing the earth, and I can’t wait to see my little friends again. Their reappearance each year around the end of February always gives me just a little more patience to wait for spring to arrive. Tulips arrive to celebrate new life. From there, my daisies take off. An ordinary, hardy bunch, they have the stamina to endure the fiery heat of summer and keep coming back for more year after year. You can’t keep those guys down. Thank you for the reminder that the sun is making its way up to our part of the sky once again.
And what about bluebonnets? Any of those? I’m from Central Texas (Waco), and my grandmother lived for the bluebonnets. Thank you, Delaney.
Can’t believe I forgot the bluebonnets! Those are wild and go wherever they want to. I wouldn’t dream of limiting them to a bed.
Funny, I just wrote a poem today about our own fierce daffodils – I called them ‘cheeky’ 🙂