Daffodil season
Hello from the porch!
February 19, 2024 16:51
53ºF/ 11ºC, sunny skies, pressure 1020, waxing gibbous
My daffodil season began in early January when I spotted them in the Low Line gardens managed by Capital Trees. Our group of volunteers had just finished pruning a section of the trailside landscaping when we spotted the characteristically strong sprouts of a daffodil bulb. We had spent the previous few weeks closer to the ground, plucking undesired plants before they could get too established, and it was a delight to be lopping off dry branches and making space for new life.
A week or so later, I noticed green shoots in front of our house, and then a few weeks later, there were daffodil blooms in my neighbor’s garden. I thought ours would surely flower while I was out of town for a week, but instead, I was treated to an additional week of emergence.
This all feels early and perhaps, a little unsettling.
Signs of spring in January?
No, I’m not ready yet.
I was born in the winter in a cold place and quite enjoyed tucking into my books and projects and snowy activities for the season. It’s been almost fourteen years since I truly wintered and I find myself yearning for the cold, not quite sure what to do in this topsy-turvy winter. Are we blooming? Harvesting? Composting? Hibernating? I prefer an oppressive cold that rules out a few options, or at least that’s what I say from the comfort of the temperates.
My yearning for the cold aside, there has been some awesome weather this past week.
Last Saturday, I was stopped in my tracks with a whole-body feeling of uneasiness as the pressure dropped and huge rain clouds rolled over. Cypress the cat had caught a mouse earlier that day and had retired to bed, and I decided to join. Soon there was big wind, and then a percussive release of rain. Scott was woodworking when the new weather blew in and it trapped him in the shed we built in the fall. After spending more than two years in tune with the weather, it was a delight to be mildly affected by it.
I have also had some tremendous animal sightings on the trails along the river. Two deer, two foxes, two falcons. One tree with obvious markings of beavers, which I might have walked by if not for reading Beaverland these last few weeks.
I’m also reading The Sand County Almanac, in which Aldo Leopold said, “Tell me of what plant birthday a man takes notice, and I shall tell you a good deal about his vocation, his hobbies, his hay fever, and the general level of his ecological education.” I wonder what it means to be a woman celebrating the daffodils’ birthdays.
One of our housemates partakes in the city’s knack for year-round skeletons and I’ve taken to making them cardboard signs. The first was a cheeky “carpe diem”, which had the unexpected benefit of of hearing elders explain the saying to young ones as they walk by. As I sit here on the porch with Cypress the cat, a girl doubled back to read “happy daffodil season” and her dad praised her on the use of big words. There’s something silly yet strategic about our sign-holder that brings me great joy.
A previous tenant must have planted these bulbs and they have been holding down the fort longer than we have. Daffodil bulbs can live 3-5 years, and during that span, they self-propagate and continue to grow in clumps. Some internet users boast 100-year clumps! I wonder when mine went into the ground? I wonder how long they’ll stay?
Daffodils develop their roots in the fall and go dormant for the winter.
I too grew roots this fall and had periods of dormancy in the winter.
I too can feel the ground warming and am sending up some blooms. A couple from this week include our interview with Out The Gate sailing podcast and a laptop case made out of a ripped pair of jeans, batting from SCRAP RVA, and zippers bought in a last-minute stock-up before we sailed south over the Mexican border.
