Boy with buttercups
Here in Christian County, Kentucky, it's not unusual to see places where old-time, single-bloom daffodils have naturalized. In this case, I speculate that a few bulbs were planted many years ago, near a house or cabin that doesn't exist anymore.
I call these flowers "daffodils", but people around here often call them "buttercups." Maybe this little Mennonite boy calls them "Osterglocken" as they do in Germany -- literally, "Easter bells."
Related:
Another place where daffodils have gone wild
7 comments:
A very nice picture. I especially like the small boy making off with a bouquet of yellow.
In Wordsworth's words, "a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze"
Here in north central West Virginia only the leaves are apparent, but during the past couple of weeks we drove through southern Virginia, the Carolinas, Georgia, and west to Texas, and enjoyed the sight of many fields of daffodils in bloom, some densely packed into what must in some time past have been homesteads.
Thank you, Robert. I love the Wordsworth quote. The little boy in the photo was so engrossed in making his bouquet that he didn't even notice I had stopped to take his picture. I was happy for him that he could pick as many daffodils as he wanted.
It always tickles me to find naturalized daffodils or lilies where the house is long gone.
The gardeners would be pleased to know that the flowers are thriving.
After my last comment, I read on your blog where you said you live in Kentucky. What fun to have a longer growing season! I love this photo!
Thanks for visiting, Sue. I like this photo a lot, too. It is nice to have a short winter in Kentucky, but we pay for it with a long season of very hot, humid weather. I know that's the growing season, but sometimes in July or August, I wouldn't care if the heat would abate a month or two early.
Spring evokes such wonderful childhood memories, especially those of the amazing ranch I grew up on. When I was a young boy growing up on my folk’s ranch, large areas in one of our pastures, near one of the orchards would burst yellow due to lots of daffodils. Knowing how much my mother loved them I would pull my wagon down through the pasture, filling it entirely with daffodils and then pull it back home where I would run in to the house and ask mom to come and see what was waiting for her. I remember exactly how excited I felt when seeing moms expression, “Oh Gary, they’re just beautiful! But honey, you shouldn’t pick so many!” Then she would fill vases and and place them all over the house. It was the same story every spring and looking back I’m sure mom knew exactly where I was going when she heard my noisy old red wagon headed down the driveway towards the pasture and that’s when she would prepare to act surprised when her little boy returned to the house, ran inside and said, “Come and see this mom!”
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