When living in a northern latitude country the anticipation of the coming spring can be overwhelming. Waiting for ephemerals to break through once frozen soil can hardly be contained. When I moved here there were no gardens adjacent to the hardwood forest. I would look out the windows and see only shades of brown. Slowly green growth would emerge from honeysuckle and spicebushes. I knew I needed more. Daffodils had been planted the front garden by the former owners. I decided to dig them out, separate the bulbs and move them to various places throughout the property. As gardens grew and daffodil clumps doubled in size, each subsequent season the clumps were dug up, bulbs separated and transplanted into gardens adjacent to the hardwood forest. I was also given a clump of daffodils from neighbor who had removed them from her parents grave site. Another clump came from a friend who rented a property where daffodils were growing in the nearby woods. I share this because all the daffodils you see in the photos are the “children” of all who grew here or were given to me. None were bought. They were all planted with love and tended to with gentleness and gratitude for what they give back to me each spring.
The Iris and the Lily 