A friend brings me daffodils when she comes to our New Year's Eve dinner party. Is there anything in this world which signifies Spring more than daffodils? When Shelley wrote," When Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?" romantics siezed on it as an expression of hope. I must say I think that phrase often when there is a blizzard outside.
Today, the flowers which Wendy brought for me, sit on the kitchen window sill and are just beginning to open. Outside, the tete-a-tete daffodils I planted in planters outside both doors and which had poked through their gravel topping and put forth an inch of green shoot before Christmas, are now hidden under six inches of hard snow which covered them a fortnight ago and shows no sign of moving any time soon.
I read somewhere this week that when Britain was at its lowest ebb in 1942; when our soldiers had been forced out at Dunkirk and there seemed to be an imminent threat of invasion; when fuel was in short supply and there was a spell of really wintry weather, Winston Churchill remarked that whatever the situation, in order to keep up morale two things had to be brought into the country at all costs. One of those things was lipstick and the other was the early daffodils imported from our Scilly Isles.
So, while daffodils are not yet in Wordworthian mode, i.e. "fluttering and dancing in the breeze", they are opening their buds on my kitchen window sill, and I say thank goodness for that.