#To an Early Daffodil

[adventuresofalgy]

The following day was very much brighter, with some strong February sunshine, but also a stiff breeze. In fact the whole world seemed to be in motion, although this may have had something to do with the absence of a tripod 😀

And as Algy fluttered around the garden, he was surprised to see the very first daffodil flowers of the coming spring, for these were not the early, miniature daffodils which quite often flowered at the beginning of February, but full-sized varieties which did not normally appear until many weeks later in the year.

Perching happily on the grass to watch the beautiful nodding heads glowing in the sunshine, he was reminded of a poem written "to an early daffodil", for these were indeed certainly exceptionally early, but instead of spring being laggard, and the flowers catching the gold of an April sun, they were playing in the chilly wind of a bright early February day…

Thou yellow trumpeter of laggard Spring! Thou herald of rich Summer’s myriad flowers! The climbing sun with new recovered powers Does warm thee into being, through the ring Of rich, brown earth he woos thee, makes thee fling Thy green shoots up, inheriting the dowers Till ripe and blossoming thou art a thing To fill the lonely with a joy untold; Nodding at every gust of wind to-day, To-morrow jewelled with raindrops. Always bold To stand erect, full in the dazzling play Of April's sun, for thou hast caught his gold.

[Algy is quoting the poem To an Early Daffodil by the late 19th/early 20th century American poet Amy Lowell.]

[life-imitates-art-far-more]

Oskar Zwintscher (1870-1916) "Portrait with Yellow Daffodils" (1907)

[exy-shmexy]

Going insane, going crazy

All of the trilogy is gonna hurt me

[twyllodrus]

ripley (2024) – III. sommerso dir. steven zaillian // daffodils by howard butterworth // i wandered lonely as a cloud (1804) by william wordsworth // narcissus (c. 1597–1599) by caravaggio

[patriciastrike]

first daffodil

[bloodydeanwinchester]

going insane over dean wanting to be treated like he’s fragile 😩

it dawns darling on the daffodil pastures

[y2kbeautyandother2000sstuff]

Bath and Body Works Daffodil Fields Foam Burst Moisturizing Body Wash and Foam Soft Body Mousse

late 1990s-early 2000s

Body wash found on Ebay, user spacey357

Mousse found on Ebay, user ohheylookwhatifound

[poetrythreesixfive]

Early Risers

The daffodils sprang in December

while winter was barely new;

the earliest I can remember,

the daffodils sprang in December,

they had only decayed in September

when the summer was scarcely through;

the daffodils sprang in December

while winter was barely new.

-GeorgeFilip

[pixelchills]

My Dear Daffodil chapter 4 is now up for the $6 tier!

The chapter will be posted publicly to AO3 on the weekend!

[adventuresofalgy]

Although Algy had discovered some early daffodils flowering well before their usual time, it was certainly not spring in the sense which many of his friends would understand, where winter truly and definitely ends, perhaps with a major thaw, and the world becomes consistently warm untill the autumn.

For in the temperate rainforest climate of the wild west Highlands of Scotland, it rarely if ever gets genuinely warm, in the same way that it is rarely seriously cold, and spring tends to be a very long drawn out and chilly season, which might appear to start early, if plants are an indicator, but which remains well below a comfortable temperature for several months, despite the rapidly lengthening days.

And of course the local conditions are usually exceptionally wet, as befits a rainforest climate. But at certain times of year it is not uncommon for the west Highlands to experience a week or two of dry, sunny weather, and in Algy's experience this quite often happens in February.

So he was not particularly surprised when the next morning brought more fine weather, but also a sparkling frost. Perching on the icy ground briefly, in order to inspect a patch of emerging crocuses which were growing in an area where the still-low sun could not often reach to warm them, Algy observed that "a tremor of the winter" did indeed still "shivering through them run", and he reflected on the extent to which the order of appearance of the spring bulbs was confused this year, for not only were many of the snowdrops still only starting to come into flower, but full sized daffodils were beginning to flower at the same time, before the crocuses had fully opened. It all seemed topsy-turvy to Algy, and although he was of course delighted to see the return of flowers to the garden, he could not help feeling that things were not quite as they should be…

They heard the South wind sighing A murmur of the rain; And they knew that Earth was longing To see them all again. While the snow-drops still were sleeping Beneath the silent sod; They felt their new life pulsing Within the dark, cold clod. Not a daffodil nor daisy Had dared to raise its head; Not a fairhaired dandelion Peeped timid from its bed; Though a tremor of the winter Did shivering through them run; Yet they lifted up their foreheads To greet the vernal sun.

[Algy is thinking of the first four verses of the poem The Crocuses by the 19th/early 20th century American poet and activist, Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, who was one of the first African American women to be published in the United States.]

[jesmcreates]

[recitedemise]

wax poetic 🥺

Send 'wax poetic' for Gale to monologue. Likely in ways far too sentimental: still accepting.

Spring. I should very much like to have you near — if you'd let me.

Gale looks to them. Morning breaks. Beyond the tent, the first rays of dawn come carefully rising, and both pale and golden, they would crawl like wheat. He watches it dawdle, all its fawn-legged grace ambling clumsy down their hair. He thinks of the season with its snowfall ever keen to keep on clinging. He thinks of daffodils and daisies as they flower in the field.

And he doesn't dare dream, no, not when the greatest shadows of his fate — leviathaned, abysmally, lamentably dark — would loom like a whale song in the slags of his mind. Still, he's only ever mortal, failing as he's wont to in his heart and in his flesh. He is fashioned for dreaming, for wishing ever drusily for days he'd never see. He longs for Hallow in his bed and Hallow wrapped snugly as Waterdeep sleeps, and he thinks of steeping her a tea in a flavor she would fancy. Earl grey. Light milk. And kisses to sweeten.

He'd muse of early springtime. He sees her and sees hope. He digs his nose in their scalp, that gentle, fragrant spot smelled of dew drops by her ear. He wants to leave the taste of sweetened milk along her lips, and they, he knows, had so easily thawed him.

It's fitting. He melts against her front. They've stirred his heart like beesong, something full and verdant.

[rosememorial]

Blossoms in the dusk, Feburary, 28, 2023 ~flower, flower oh my love bloom for me to love ~

[noccolibroccoli]

ITS OFFICIAL IM CALLING IT

IT'S SPRING

[patriciastrike]

[spontaneousmusicalnumber]

W H O is weedwacking??? It's March 24 THERE ARE NO WEEDS TO WACK