There is something magical about daffodils. The mere shape of the flower seems to trumpet the arrival of spring, announcing something new and exciting.
Imagine March in the Lowcountry with a sea of yellow daffodils covering a yard that stretches all the way down to the banks of Abbapoola Creek. My grandmother Lou would sit on the green porch swing and watch her grandchildren de-daffodil her yard. I can still hear the rhythmic creaking of the chains from the old swing — it almost sounded like a familiar song. She loved watching us pick every flower but there was always another prized daffodil hidden in her yard. The goal was to gather enough flowers to present a bouquet to my teacher every spring.
It was an act of love both to give the flowers and also to feel love from a wonderful, giving grandmother. The daffodil is a symbol of perseverance because it even blooms in the snow. This flower is consistent — you can count on the green blades to push through the dirt and be transformed into a beautiful spring flower. Love, consistency, and perseverance — these are qualities we should all aspire to as we bloom throughout our lives.
One of my favorite poems was written by William Wordsworth and inspired by the daffodil. This poem brings back amazing childhood memories of running through Lou’s yard gathering the grandest of all flowers, the daffodil.
I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud
by William Wordsworth
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.
