Thursday, April 30, 2015

An Enduring Affair With The Humble Daffodil

Chronica Domus
A jaunty grouping of daffodils and ranunculus to brighten my kitchen
Photo: Chronica Domus


I have a particular weakness for daffodils, or narcissi as they are frequently called. These humble blooms have captivated my imagination with their beauty since childhood. They are, in fact, my favorite of all flowers.  I am simply mad about them. My excitement each spring upon spotting the first alluring bunches at the flower market, or as they slowly emerge from the damp garden soil in clumps, never wanes. There are no words vivid enough to express how much joy these cheery little flowers bring to my soul.  They are, quite simply, my happy pill.

Chronica Domus
Narcissus Thalia, my favorite of the whites and as pure as the driven snow
Photo: Chronica Domus


One of my earliest memories is of my father and I buying bunches of sunny daffs to present to my mother as a gift on Mothering Sunday. I could not have been more than six or seven years old at the time but those bright yellow trumpets captured and delighted my young mind. 

Once my family and I moved away from London to live in Kent, a county known throughout the nation as "The Garden of England", something new revealed itself to tickle my fancy.  It was a sight I had not previously seen within the confines of the country's capital city.  Great naturalized drifts of golden daffodils buried in the grassy banks of roadsides and around the fruit orchards and church yards reared their bright heads year upon year.  They shone like beacons among the misty light so synonymous with winter and early spring in that part of the world.  How lucky I was to have witnessed this annual show, a cherished memory that will endure always.

Years later, I recall daffodils cropping up again, during Miss Bottle's English Literature class where we studied the poem of William Wordsworth and his evocative prose on the humble flower.  Is there any more beautifully haunting opening line in poetry than the imagery conjured up by Wordsworth's "I wander'd lonely as a cloud"? 

It seems that the yellow daffodil of my youth, namely Narcissus pseudonarcissus, has been eclipsed by the ubiquitous King Alfred, typically found for sale in every big box chain gardening center for pennies, alongside other overly-hybridized and overly-stiff specimens on offer.  These too are what one sees for sale (mostly) by the bucket load at supermarket florists and the like at this time of year.  

Make no mistake, when I write that daffodils are my favorite of all flowers, I am championing their daintier fairer kin in gentle shades of buttery yellow, cream, or white, often with hints of pink or fiery orange, or even green to elevate their beauty. These are what I crave and what I gently strongly encourage you too to seek out for your own garden or vase.

I am particularly fond of the older varieties and cultivate a number of them in my garden.  Thalia (circa 1916), Avalanche (circa 1906), and Albatross (circa 1891), are three that grow reliably well for me.  I look forward to cutting bunches of them as they come into bloom in succession if, of course, the eternal army of nocturnal snails, slugs, and earwigs have not munched upon their tender heads under the cover of darkness.  I shy away from chemical warfare on my soil, and on the creatures that live within it, so enduring a little loss each season is a natural consequence of my philosophy.  I just make sure to plant ample bulbs to be enjoyed in the flower beds and by some for my daffodil foes.  

My interest in growing older varieties of daffodil began, strangely enough, with a visit to the quirky Welsh market town of Hay-on-Wye during the early 1990's. The place is a treasure trove of fascinating second-hand booksellers and shops that litter the town. Bibliophiles flock here from around the world in search of obscure publications to add to their personal libraries. No one leaves empty handed; it really is that good.  Once I had recovered from the mind-numbing effects of visiting more bookshops in a single day than one could possibly imagine exhausting in a lifetime, I happily left town clutching three little volumes to add to my gardening library.

Even the castle walls of Hay-on-Wye are recruited to hold the overflow of books which burst from the seams of local shops

The Culture of Bulbs by Sir J.L. Cotter was one of them, and it was this volume that led me down the garden path to seeking out, and subsequently cultivating, one of the rarer daffodils illustrated within the black and white plates of the book. What, I wondered, as I gazed upon the illustration of the antique poeticus narcissus Albatross, did this bloom look like in living color, and why on earth would someone name a flower after a seabird?  Sadly, Sir James had failed to provide his readers with even a line or two about this particular daffodil's charms.  My inquisitive mind had found a botanical mission and I would not rest until I had my answers.

Chronica Domus
The Culture of Bulbs, the book that led to my "daffodilmania"
Photo: Chronica Domus


It took me over a decade and a half to finally lay my green fingers on this rare beauty. Flipping through my copy of Old House Gardens' charmingly written and illustrated catalog several years ago, I finally spotted it. Narcissus Albatross was waiting in the wings and all I had to do was place my order.

Chronica Domus
My well-thumbed copy of Old House Gardens' delightful catalog of heirloom bulbs
Photo: Chronica Domus


I was chuffed to finally get an opportunity to plant a few bulbs and see how they might perform in my garden. A handwritten note on my packing invoice tucked within my order made reference to the fact that the vendor had no idea if the flowers were scented, an aspect of their nature which I had not previously considered. 

Chronica Domus
The sought after (at least by me) narcissus Albatross photographed alongside the black and white plate that inspired my desire to cultivate this heirloom jewel
Photograph: Chronica Domus


Registered in 1891 by Reverend Engleheart and named, interestingly, for his fondness of seabirds (as was narcissus Seagull, another of his creations), this beguiling dainty daffodil was everything I had wished it to be. Emerging from grayish green foliage so late in my garden as to take the prize for best latecomer to the party, it is sublime. It peaks just as my tulips fade.  

Chronica Domus
The first of the blooms beginning to unfurl
Photo: Chronica Domus


The luminous graceful creamy petals are almost propeller like in form, whitening as they mature. Their frilly cups are painted a gentle shade of orange which intensifies towards the edge. The scent you ask? Well, yes, if one were to bury one's nose deep within the cup, a barely perceivable whiff is certainly present. The old reverend had obviously studied the albatross in flight enough to have seen a passing resemblance in this graceful bloom's nodding habit.

Chronica Domus
As though captured in flight, narcissus Albatross spreads its wings in the flower bed
Photo: Chronica Domus


Won't you join me in discovering the joys of growing older variants of the humble daffodil the next time you find your garden in need of a few cheery spring blooms? You will be amazed and delighted at the host of subtle colors and graceful shapes lacking in the larger steroid-pumped, modern varieties, as you rediscover what our grandparents once purchased as cut flowers or grew in their gardens.

Chronica Domus
Photo: Chronica Domus


Nota bene: I am neither paid nor do I receive recompense in exchange for applauding products or services within my blog.  I do so because I enjoy them.  If you are a kindred spirit, you too enjoy recommending nice things to fellow good eggs.

34 comments:

  1. I had daffodils last year in front of the house because I like them too!

    I had planted some in a window box that comes up as it feels. This year they didn't flower but that is entirely my fault. I have my favorites and my yellow roses get all my attention.

    But it is interesting because I am sure you know this from being brought up here but some of my friends commented when visiting saying they felt it had a nefarious quality - that is a direct quote!

    But I love the way they are planted en masse in certain areas of Kensington Gardens and it cheers me up walking past.

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    1. Hello Naomi,

      I guess daffs are getting a bad rap in the UK, and I should not at all be surprised truthfully. I think the problem is the omnipresence of the great big honking yellow variety - do you agree? Perhaps that is why your friends described them as "nefarious". As I wrote, I'm championing their more delicate cousins, which no doubt, would change your friends' minds pronto.

      Good to know KG has planted swathes of them to cheer the place up. Wish I could have seen them in person.

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  2. This was our 2nd spring in our house and we had planted 3 varieties of daffodils and they all came up again (saving those tender leaves all summer did the trick) and they were even larger and fuller this year. I think they're just the most cheerful spring flower! All 3 varieties bloom at different times so there is something blooming all spring. Wish we had added this one -it's delightful! I have to reserve my favorite flower though: it will always be the common, sunny, delightful daisy!

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    1. Well done, AD! Planting daffodils is so rewarding because, as you've discovered, they come up year-on-year and if you leave their foliage to die back naturally (I know, it can be a bit of a mess), they'll reward you further by multiplying. Narcissus Avalanche in particular is a gold medal athlete when it comes to naturalizing.

      Glad to learn that your favorite flower is the humble daisy. I adore them too and remind me so much of childhood and the many daisy chains I made.

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  3. I love them, too, especially the ones you've got in a bouquet - with low centre. Those are the ones we have in Russia, they are most common. So they remind me of home. x

    P.S. Never knew about that book place in Wales, but now definitely want to go (and probably get a truck load of beautiful charming tomes).

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    1. Hello Natalia,

      It is nice to learn that daffodils in Russia are something other than the ubiquitous yellow King Alfred variety.

      I think you will enjoy the lures of Hay-on-Wye, but plan a weekend trip there as you'll need somewhere to lay your weary head at night, along with a few aspirin, to help you recover from the millions of books you'll see there.

      Thanks for stopping by and commenting.

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  4. Hello CD, As you know, I prefer my flowers growing wildly; luckily daffodils have become naturalized in many areas. I don't know about all areas, but in Ohio daffodils like to establish themselves and grow wild.

    Often, walking in the woods, the last signs of houses that vanished long ago are the stands of daffodils that still bloom each year. An extra bonus is that of course these are the old varieties, planted in an earlier time.
    --Jim

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    1. Hello Jim,

      Ohio seems to be rather like places in the English countryside where great swathes of these cheery blooms, along with bluebells, wood anemones, and primroses are happy to naturalize and put on a lovely show. I miss this aspect of spring around my childhood home where even as a young lass, I'd seek great pleasure from these wild blooms.

      There have been many old daffodils rediscovered growing in such gardens as you describe, at least in England; some at least a century old. They must be quite resilient and beautiful to boot.

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  5. CD,
    This is such a wonderful and informative post. I've written down the daffs you recommend and will be ordering some when the bulb catalogs arrive in the fall. Do you find they last long in the house once cut? I also love ranunculas!
    Have a wonderful weekend.
    xo,
    Karen

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    Replies
    1. Hello Karen,

      I think you'll be particularly pleased to plant narcissus Avalanche in your garden as it performs exceptionally well in warmer climes, and naturalizes almost effortlessly.

      Freshly cut daffodils last about a week in the vase, and some (like Avalanche) have a strong scent which you will either love or hate.

      I recently saw bunches of Italian ranunculas for sale at the flower market which looked stunning. I'd not seen that type before. Search them out locally as you are such a ranunculus fan. You'll just love them!

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  6. Beautifully done CD starting with that jaunty arrangement to start us off. That reference to books and Hay-on-Wye did jog a memory of an introduction you gave me to their King.

    http://www.richardkingofhay.com/

    Now off to look into these 'earwigs' who seem to have thus far escaped me.

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    1. Hello GSL,

      You do have a good memory remembering the king of Hay-on-Wye. I shall never forget the man - he's simply unforgettable. You must visit the town if you are ever in Wales. I know you'll be as mad about the place as I was.

      Those pesky and crafty little earwigs are quite a nuisance and would not wish them on anyone. They are so sly that they manage to hide in little crevices during the day and run amok at night feasting on anything that is about to come into bloom.

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  7. Hooray for daffodils! After a punishing Boston winter ours finally bloomed and even the rhubarb is flourishing. They look so cheerful. However, we discovered our boxwoods have leaf miners and our rhododendrons have scale bugs. I welcome the spring weather but not the plant pests.

    Best, KL Gaylin

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    1. Hooray for daffodils indeed! They never fail to cheer me up, along with spring-like sunny days. I'm happy to read that the worst of your winter is behind you and that you look forward to reaping the rewards of planting rhubarb. I adore rhubarb. You are making me hanker for some crumble right now, smothered in lashings of cream, of course.

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  8. Daffodils mean spring! I adore them.

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    1. Hello Jen, and welcome!

      I cannot think of a better flower to represent the coming of spring than the daffodil, full of promise for new beginnings.

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  9. Love daffodils, and narcissi too. The 30 bulbs I planted years ago have wholly ceased to bloom. I'm not sure why, but I'm taking it as a sign to stick with lavender and rosemary:).

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    1. Oh, do not be deterred with your no-show daffs! May I gently suggest that you dig them up and divide them, which will more than likely result in a bumper crop for your viewing pleasure next spring. Overcrowded bulbs tend to be unhappy. When replanting, give them a little bone meal, if you can find it, or fish meal, and the'll be perfectly happy to put on a show for you. Also, the foliage should be allowed to wither naturally and not be cut.

      Lavender and rosemary are so pretty and fragrant. I'm sure the bees are delighted to be paying you a visit during the summer months.

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  10. It was almost, I repeat almost worth it to have minor surgery this morning that led to a flowers in the house that brought me to you.

    As a florist I too love narcissus, but not the grocery store variety. I don't find them attractive or long lasting. Narcissus, such as you mention, last a little longer, smell quite heavenly and are of a kinder color(s). But in a pinch, in the last days of winter, I'll grab a few stems of any daffodils. Lovely post, beautifully written, pleasure to meet you.

    Xo J

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    1. Hello flwrjane,

      I too am charmed to have made your acquaintance today, and to think one of the most elementary and most beautiful ways to brighten our homes was to blame; a simple arrangement of cut flowers.

      I am glad we are in agreement when it comes to the charms of home-grown or older variants of this humble bloom, and you are so right to state the short-lived nature of those grocery bunches that seem to wither as soon as they've unfurled.

      I do hope you visit again, and I wish you a speedy recovery from your surgery.

      CD

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  11. Nothing humble about daffodils, stars with bells on! And I just stopped dead when I saw your ranunculus, I am obssesed with them...this year.

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    1. Hello Amelia,

      I too adore ranunculus, and as I commented above to Karen, I stopped dead in my tracks upon seeing a bunch of (new to me) Italian ranunculus with their frilly green centers. I encourage you to seek them out too as you may very well have a new obsession to satisfy.

      Thank you for stopping by and commenting today.

      CD

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  12. There's absolutely nothing "humble" about that bowl of daffs! they are lovely. I like daffodils, but not as much as other early spring bulbs and my very favorite - tulips! Sadly tulips do poorly in our heavy clay soil, while daffs seem to prosper. Thanks for joining in with us today. Hope you will come back next month, too.

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    1. Why, thank you webb, and lovely to make your acquaintance.

      Tulips can be a little temperamental and I'm wondering if amending your soil with some sandy loam may coax them into action.

      Thank you for stopping by and yes, I look forward to joining this fun FITH series next month too.

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  13. Just a gorgeous gorgeous arrangement. Love ranunculus...or as we call them "binoculars". The combo with the daffs is amazing.

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    1. Thank you, Nelson, you are most kind to say so. "Binoculars" sounds just perfect to me.

      I do hope you come back again for another visit. Thank you for your comment.

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  14. It seems we hear much about heirloom vegetables, but not as much about older variants of flowers. You've planted a seed here with me. Thank you. Absolutely luscious arrangement! And now I must visit Hay-on-Wye.

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    1. Hello Denise,

      I'm happy to have inspired you to consider heirloom flowers the next time you seek to plant something beautiful in your garden, or to fill your vase.

      A visit to Hay-on-Wye will be unlike any other place you will have visited; a unique corner of the world to be sure.

      Thanks for stopping by today and hope you return again.

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  15. Lovely post CD, and your little bowl full is so charming. My father has huge drifts of them in Spring in his garden. I have no idea what varieties they are (there are several) but they would have been planted a hundred years ago when the garden was laid out, so are likely heirloom varieties now. I shall have to take note next Spring and try to work it out! Love your commitment to seeking out the unusual.

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    1. Hello Heidi,

      Gosh, I do hope you plan a post about your father's daffs. I'm impressed that after a century they are still blooming and thriving (does he divide them occasionally, I wonder?). I supposed the oldies are quite resilient, hence their survival today.

      I've always been drawn to the unusual, if I think about it. I noticed it first in childhood because my mother did the same. Obviously, something rubbed off.

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  16. Replies
    1. Thank you Alicia, and welcome! I take it you too are a fan of the humble daffodil?

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  17. What a lovely tribute to the humble daffodil. I rarely know what the varieties are in my garden and think you were lucky to still be able to get a variety from an old book - which by the way is gorgeous. I love the fragrant varieties - the more the merrier is what I say.

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    1. Hello elaine, and welcome!

      I do feel fortunate that I was able to track down some of the oldies to grow in my garden, and the book certainly led me on an adventure unlike any other book in my garden library.

      I see you live in England, which has a number of bulb suppliers to select from when trying to decide which varieties of daffs to grow. If you too are looking for the oldies, might I suggest you check out the suppliers listed on the The Daffodil Society of the UK. There are some gems to unearth.

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