Hardy


I have gained a huge amount of respect for these little daffodils.  Not only have they survived a snow storm, they have sustained pounding rain, punishing winds, and flying trash.  Monday happened to be a Bank Holiday here in the UK and in many areas it was also trash day.  I know that some of the trash was picked up but on my walk home from work it appeared that a lot had been left out.  And then these stiff winds came up and blew trash all over the city.  There was a whirlwind of styrefoam pieces on Queensferry road, bags of trash in the middle of Castle street, and litter everywhere.  These little mini-daffodils have survived it all and continue to bring their cheerfulness to our neighborhood.

About Rebecca

Hi! After five years in Europe, I'm adjusting to life back in the US. I use this blog to record my adventures, post photos, organize recipes, and post about things that interest me.
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One Response to Hardy

  1. POP says:

    A flower worthy of a poem! POP

    “Daffodils” (1804)
    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.

    By William Wordsworth (1770-1850).

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