Daffodil Dreams

                                                                                                                  

“I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o’er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

 

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

 

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not be but gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed – and gazed – but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

 

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.”

 

William Wordsworth, 

“I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud”

After the dark nights and sparkling lights of December, a slender green head pokes its nose through white snow and cold earth. Pushing quickly through the fallen leaves of autumn, a daffodil emerges to reveal its modest beauty and attest to the coming spring.

Beloved by poets from Shakespeare to Wordsworth, daffodils have long been a traditional harbinger of warm weather, a symbol of rebirth and a promise of better times to come.

Appearing as early as January in warm climates, simple yellow daffodils are a small but reliable miracle of Mother Nature, a welcome sight after a long, cold winter and one of my first and most favorite signs of spring.

                                            

            Native to northern Europe, daffodils were beloved along with all flowers in Victorian times, when each bud carried a meaning, and a bouquet of blossoms sent a secret message from a young woman to her beau. In the language of flowers, daffodils stood for “regard.” 

Like Wordsworth, I have a high regard for daffodils. I remember as a young girl visiting an old white, wooden farmhouse in the country to marvel at massed daffodils still blooming wild in the dooryard, hardy after years of neglect.

No primadonnas, daffodils are inexpensive, are easy to grow and naturalize readily. They are beautiful as cut flowers in a clear glass vase. Their butter-yellow blooms are especially beautiful when planted with purple grape hyacinths.

In recent times, modern growers have experimented with daffodils to create dozens of new varieties now available for purchase in shades of orange, pink and white.

Re-emerging year after year with very little care, daffodils are one of the easiest bulbs for beginning gardeners to grow. They demand no special treatment and give years of pleasure to children and adults alike. Daffodils are hardy in quite cold climates, and burrowing rodents find them much less tasty than tulip bulbs.

To plant daffodils, dig holes in the autumn 3 to 6 inches deep in partial to full sun. They will grow up to 18 inches tall, blooming in late winter or early spring. They need no summer watering and will reward your planting efforts again and again.

All daffodils and jonquils are members of the Narcissus family, so named after the mythic Greek youth Narcissus, who fell in love with his own reflection in a pool and was punished for his egotism by being transformed into a papery white flower. Daffodils themselves, however, are neither showy nor vain, offering us their innocent beauty as a simple gift of spring and a testament to joy.

The name “daffodil” is thought to come from Affodyle, an old English word meaning “early comer.” Also knows as the Lent lily, it was called many nicknames in Shakespeare’s day, including daff-a-down-lily and daffodilly.

One popular spring attraction in the hills of Northern California is Daffodil Hill, near Volcano, Amador County. Every spring, from mid-March through mid-April, the 4-acre farm erupts in fields of yellow. The site has been open to the public for generations, attracting visitors from all over the world with its sunny drifts of gold.

            I first visited Daffodil Hill as a baby and enjoyed sitting among the blooms, which were taller than I. Over the years, our family returned several times, grown and changed, yet the daffodils have always been fresh and lovely.               

Daffodil Hill first began in 1887 as a 36-acre ranch and toll road for travelers and lumbermen. It grew well-known in the 1930’s as travelers admired its daffodil-covered slopes. Descendents of the original family held onto the old homestead, planting thousands of new daffodil bulbs each year and nurturing more than 300 named varieties. Today, more than 300,000 bulbs flourish well-tended on the farm.

Those who do not live near Daffodil Hill can view daffodils at any public garden during the spring season. To adorn your own garden with daffodils takes but a bit of preparation and effort in the fall, and the results are well worth it.

Plan now for next year’s show, and you can look forward to your own spot of loveliness next spring.

“Fair daffodils, we weep to see/You haste away so soon.”

-- Robert Herrick, “To Daffodils”

  

Daffodil photos taken at my home.

Bibliography

“Bulbs for All Seasons,” Sunset, Lane Publishing Co., 1985.

http://www.bachmans.com/divHomePage.ep?currentNodeBean=GardenCare&categoryCode=02&pageIndex=_pageIndexToken_successWithDaffodils

 “The Language of Flowers,” Ed. Sheila Pickles, Harmony Books, 1990.

Sightseeing in Chicago: Millennium Park

"Gigantic, willful, young,

Chicago sitteth at the northwest gates."

-- William Vaughn Moody, 1901

One of the highlights of our summer this year was visiting Chicago for a day. I'd never been there before, so we decided to see some of the main sights. Luckily for us, many of them are in one spot: Grant Park.

Founded in 1844, the 319-acre park lies on the southwestern shore of Lake Michigan and encompasses gardens, museums, fountains, open spaces, woods and sculptures. It is the lovely centerpiece of the city. 

The northernmost portion of Grant Park comprises the new 24.5-acre Millennium Park, which opened in 2004 on the grounds of a formerly blighted industrial site. Inside Millennium Park is the five-acre Lurie Garden, home to a perennial garden with many native plants, including the Pale Coneflowers (Echinacea pallida) pictured at the top.

Among the beautiful flowers in Lurie Garden, we also saw these White Blazing Stars (Liatris spicata 'Alba'):

Also in Millennium Park is Crown Fountain, which consists of a shallow reflecting pool of black granite flanked by two 50-foot glass brick towers. Using LED technology, the towers display gigantic faces of 1,000 different Chicago residents intermittently spouting streams of water from their mouths. It really is a technological wonder and is interesting to watch. On the day we were there, the Midwest was in the grip of a heat wave, so the reflecting pool was filled with children (and a few adults) wading and splashing in the cool water.

One of the glass bricks was not working properly.

If I were a kid, I would have joined in the fun!

From the park's border, one can look past lush flowerbeds toward nearby shops in historic buildings.

One highlight of Millennium Park is Cloud Gate, a 110-ton elliptical sculpture coated in shiny stainless steel that reflects not only the sky and city skyline but also visitors who reach up to touch the sides and crowd underneath to look into the swirling images above. I think the sculpture looks a bit like a giant bike helmet, but many locals call it "The Bean."

Cloud Gate, aka "The Bean."

I'm the tiny pink dot standing in the very center and looking up.

Here is part of the city's skyline reflected in the side of "The Bean."

The last highlight of Millennium Park is the Jay Pritzker Pavilion, a large band shell that hosts the Grant Park Music Festival, which is the nation's only remaining free outdoor classical music series.

The pavilion seats 11,000 people on the Great Lawn under a sweeping metal trellis, and its state-of-the-art sound system is designed to mimic an indoor performance hall. Its stage hosts all kinds of groups every year, from classical music to rock, opera, folk music and jazz.

For lovers of modern art, music, wildflowers and family fun, Millennium Park has much to offer. Consider stopping by the next time you're in Chicago!

The Return of Rain

  "The thirsty earth soaks up the rain,

And drinks, and gapes for drink again.

The plants suck in the earth, and are

With constant drinking fresh and fair."

-- Abraham Cowley,

1618-1667

After nearly a month without rain, and more than a month of 100-degree-plus temperatures, we awoke at 4:45 a.m. to a strange sound: rain!

It turns out that my husband had left the car windows open last night, so of course that's why it rained. If I'd realized that was better than a rain dance, we would have left them open earlier!

So after I ran out in the pouring rain and closed the car windows, we listened to the welcome patter of rain falling on the parched landscape, where streams had run dry and lawns have turned brown all over town. It rained for four straight hours! By the time we woke up this morning, our empty pond had filled up, the creek had overflown its banks, and everything was dripping wet with little pearls of water.

Almost the entire state of Texas is suffering from severe drought this summer, so this one rainstorm won't solve all our problems, but it brought wonderful relief after weeks and weeks of dry, deathly heat. Unfortunately, we endured 40 days of 100-degree-plus heat without even setting a new record! I was really rooting for Dallas to tie or break the old 1980 record of 42 days of 100 degrees in a row, but a silly cool front dropped down from Oklahoma two days ago and stopped us in our tracks at 40 days. What a cruel trick of Mother Nature to give us 40 days of 100+ heat and then make it 97 on Day 41! So this summer ends up in the record books as the second-hottest summer of recorded history. However, we have set some other heat records this year.

I guess I'm happy we don't live in Wichita Falls, which has been in triple digits for about 52 days and has shattered its previous heat record.

After baking in the relentless heat for weeks on end, our yard and plants eagerly drank up this morning's rain, and the heat index dipped about 30 degrees, making it actually pleasant to be outside! The rain cleaned the dust off our cars, filled our birdbath and formed reflecting pools on the street.

When the rain evaporated, it got really humid. But the respite from dry heat was nice while it lasted.

Spring and Summer Flowers

"Earth laughs in flowers."
-- Ralph Waldo Emerson, 1803-1882

What are your favorite things? Raindrops on roses? Whiskers on kittens?

Some of my favorite things are books, cool days, my children, chocolate chip cookies and ... flowers.

My all-time favorite season is spring because the earth wakes up from its dormant sleep, puts on a fresh coat of green and comes alive with splashes of color.

Here in Texas, the state plants millions of wildflower seeds along the highways that turn our roadsides into seas of blue, red and yellow in the spring.


Our most famous flower (above) is the state flower, the bluebonnet. In other parts of the country, they may just be called blue lupine, but here in Texas, they go by the common, folksy name of bluebonnets.



The bluebonnet is so popular in Texas that it graces license plates, postcards, T-shirts and trivets. Every spring, it is a Texas tradition to take family photos among the bluebonnets.

The top photo shows a gorgeous field of bluebonnets that we have right across the street in the park by our house. Every spring I have the kids pose for me as I take another picture in the modern Texas tradition. Every year, they look a little older!



These little white star flowers emerged this spring from tiny bulbs in my flowerbed. I love to walk outside when the weather warms in spring and find new and pleasant surprises every day!



These delicate yellow wildflowers bloom throughout fields in the spring. I think these were by my children's school.



This is a dandelion in my back yard. I used to pull dandelions, but now we have pet zebra finches, and they love to eat dandelion leaves. So we let the dandelions take over a patch in our back yard. And they put on pretty yellow flowers in the spring and intricate globes of white as they go to seed.



These wee blossoms grow in little patches in the park by our house. They look a little like teeny-tiny blue irises!

These lovely yellow irises are newcomers to my flowerbeds, transplanted from a friend's yard. Irises really are some of the easiest plants to transplant.



I love all types of flowers, both wild and cultivated. Their beauty always brightens my days.

I hope these photos have brightened yours!

Visions of Fall

"Autumn"


Autumn in felted slipper shuffles on,
Muted yet fiery ...
... in the garden
Maples are garish, and surprising leaves
Make sudden fires with sudden crests of flame
Where the sun hits them

-- Vita Sackville-West, 1892-1962

The above excerpt of poetry by Vita Sackville-West is practically the only positive quotation I could find about autumn. I was quite surprised, because I love fall, and it is positively a reason for joy here in Texas, where it is not unheard of to have 100 days of 100+ temperatures in the summer. (Believe me, I've lived through it!)

Most of the classic writers, however, have lived in old England, New England and other places where winters are bleak and summers are actually pleasant. Most of the classic poets write rhapsodies about temperate summer days and describe autumn as a melancholy time of decline and getting older.

But I say fall is getting a bad rap! Although spring is definitely my favorite season, fall is right there behind it. If you don't live up north, summer is a period of dreadful heat, and we here in Dallas are always thrilled and relieved when we feel that first touch of cool air in the autumn. So there need to be more poems about the wonders of fall!

After the long, hot days of summer, autumn is a breath of fresh air.



I love the way the days cool down and you feel that frosty nip in the air for the first time in the fall. I love the old back-to-school fashions of thick tights and red plaid skirts. I love how the leaves decorate the yard with gorgeous colors of brown, red, yellow and orange. I don't even want to rake them up because they look so pretty. I wish my camera could better capture the way the sun shines through the leaves and dapples the grass with golden rays of light.

We were lucky this year to enjoy a lovely, prolonged season of beautiful autumn weather, perfect for playing outside and going birding. In fact, we saw many birds we haven't noticed in years past: yellow-rumped warblers, ruby-crowned kinglets, dark-eyed juncos. We think many of them were stopping by this year to enjoy our beautiful fall weather instead of just flying through on their fall migrations. Sometimes it just goes straight from summer heat to winter cold here in Texas, but we had a real autumn this year, and it was wonderful.

Then we woke up Dec. 2, and it was snowing!



The snow didn't last very long, and it didn't stick around. In fact, it melted in a couple of hours. But it was so pretty while it lasted. Thanks to a very early and very cold storm front, we were treated to a little bit of white.

Even our green chairs got a dusting of snow.



The kids were disappointed that school wasn't canceled.

But here in Texas, you just never know what the weather will bring you. In fact, there's a saying here that if you don't like the current weather, just wait 10 minutes and it will be something else. It's actually fairly common to have temperature swings of 30 to 40 degrees in one day, or even 15 degrees in a matter of minutes if an arctic front comes our way!



I found my "Autumn" quote in the above book "Forest's Robe" by Penhaligon and edited by Sheila Pickles. Penhaligon made several such gorgeous gatherings of poetry and prose in themes such as love, the four seasons, Christmas, weddings, etc. They include beautiful color artwork inside and are even scented with lovely perfumes from Penhaligon's line! After 17 years, my copy still smells pretty!

Unfortunately, winter is just around the corner, and we have already had a string of below-freezing nights that have killed my lush, green summer plants. But yesterday I noticed a little narcissus already blooming in my flowerbed! Poor, confused little baby daffodil.

It's not even officially winter yet, but I guess spring -- my favorite season -- is coming soon!

Garden Discoveries

For the past week, we in north Texas have been having quite a bit of rain. It is rather unusual, and the days of rain have left the ground moist and the air humid.

As an unexpected gift, the rain has brought out many kinds of mushrooms. Driving around town yesterday, the kids and I saw many front yards where large, white, saucer-shaped mushrooms had sprouted up overnight as if by magic, leaving big fairy rings in the green grass.

In our yard alone, I saw at least three different types of mushrooms today. I was most enchanted to see these tiny yellow mushrooms peeking out of the drainage hole of a plastic pot. Aren't they the cutest little things? I don't know what they are, but when I looked on the other side, there were more poking out another hole!



I also saw a beautiful red hibiscus blooming. They do quite well here in the muggy Texas summers and add bright spots of color amid the green. Their petals look like a pinwheel.




I spied a little mourning dove that for days has been living under the bushes outside our dining room. It is small and unable to fly, so I think it must still be a juvenile.


I tossed him some birdseed and hope he will soon grow strong enough to fly away safely.

From little mushrooms to little birds, our garden is full of happy surprises.

I can't wait to see what pops up next!

A Hidden Jewel

Gardening is a fun hobby. You never know what surprises you'll see, especially here in Texas.

More than a year ago, my husband planted some clematis seeds out front, expecting them to take off and cover our house with prolific, showy blooms. The garden books say they are "easy to grow" and even "somewhat aggressive."

But things don't always go according to plan.

Our little seeds did almost nothing for a long time, then finally started growing into shy little vines. I wasn't even sure if they were clematis because it had been so long since the seeds were sown.

But guess what! A few days ago I happened to look down and there, in the flowerbed, on a foot-long vine, was a beautiful, perfect, purple flower! I don't know what variety of clematis ours is, but it proved it is "The Little Vine That Could."

I love taking pictures of my flowers, and it's a good thing I do, because this bloom didn't stick around. Maybe next year we'll get more than one flower. In fact, I'm looking forward to it.

Gardeners are eternal optimists!

Colorful Crape Myrtles

In the dry heat of Texas, nothing says “summer beauty” like crape myrtles.

Deep in the suburbs of Dallas, where the relentless sun bakes nearly every plant to death, beautiful gardens are not naturally abundant. When other states enjoy pleasant summer days, we have scorching heat. When blossoms of every kind flourish in the northern states, we stick with bushes and bermuda. On the Fourth of July, we sweat through a quick morning parade and then rush back to our air-conditioned homes.




Amid this sultry sea of grass and pavement, one reliable bloomer is the crape myrtle. Its bold spots of color provide bright highlights in an otherwise drab palette of red-brick buildings and faded green lawns. In fact, the plant has become so popular here that in 1997, it was named the official state shrub of Texas!

The crape myrtle, which comes in sizes from 3 to 15 feet tall, is one of the few flowering trees that both survives and thrives in the humid South, making it an ideal addition to many yards. In the spring, their barren twigs burst forth in green, followed by heavy bunches of vibrant purple, lavender, magenta, red, white and pink. In the fall, their flower clusters yield round seeds. In mature specimens, peeling bark showcases beautiful trunks that add interest in a dying landscape.



Crape myrtles are hardy as well as graceful, and they hold forth all summer long in one of the longest blooming seasons of any flowering tree. They prefer hot, sunny climates such as Texas, California and the Carolinas. The young trees need plenty of water, but once they are established, crape myrtles are fairly drought-tolerant and need little heavy pruning.

Most early crape myrtles in the United States originated from Lagerstroemia indica, a native of China and Korea. Since then, growers have developed hundreds of new cultivars of every type. It obtained its common name of “crape myrtle” due to the petals’ resemblance to crinkly crepe fabric.

First introduced to the United States around 1790 by French botanist Andre Michaux in Charleston, S.C., the deciduous plant is now a common ornamental shrub as far north as Massachusetts and in other warm climates throughout the world. It grows well along highways, in city landscaping and in residential yards. Inexpensive and versatile, it can be trained into a single trunk or left to grow with multiple trunks.

The Caroline Crape Myrtle Home Page states: “Their stunning summer color has made crape myrtles a hallmark plant of the South since 1800. Magnificent specimens grace historic neighborhoods of fine southern cities and stand as enduring symbols marking forgotten home sites in rural areas.”

With such flashy beauty and easy reliability, it’s no wonder the crape myrtle has grown to be such a beloved staple in Southern yards today.


Bibliography

http://www.clemson.edu/extension/hgic/plants/landscape/trees/hgic1009.html

http://www.floridata.com/ref/l/lager_i.cfm

http://www.netstate.com/states/symb/tx_symb.htm