I don't know anyone who doesn't like daffodils. My grandparents loved them and had as many varieties as they could get their hands on. Most of my bulbs originated in their garden. Every year I watch for the first green tips to break ground. It usually happens in the sheltered spot in front of the eastern-most terrace or on the bank with full southern exposure.
The bank runs along the old driveway or the original driveway to my house. Back in 1981, my mother and I planted starts from her garden on the bank. It was intended as sort of a holding spot until I was fully moved and had flower beds prepared. But miss digging one daffodil bulb and you get more and more daffs. Not a problem. The bank is covered with daffs, daylilies, hosta, ajuga, snow glories, wood hyacinths, tiger lilies, and bluebells.
Why they still grow there is a mystery to me. The soil is mostly clay and I've never worked in any enhancements. But every spring I eagerly watch and remember the time spent with my mom, playing in the dirt.
The Lady of Holly Tree Manor
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