Daffodils and Saturday Mornings

Daffodils. I mean, really. What have I ever done on this earth to deserve daffodils? Nothing, that’s what. Don’t you just want to die when you see them, popping out in starry bursts of gold in the morning? Like exuberant children out for the day with their sunny party hats on. Like teacups
of light and glory.

They are dancing happily all over our neighborhood this morning, and then when I’m in line at the McDonald’s drive through (ahem),
geese fly honking overhead. It’s all too much. Spring just kills me. The Bradford pears would have been enough for the rest of my life, but every day there is something else.

The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament shows his handiwork.
(Ps 19:1)

Someday I’d like millions of daffodils in the yard, like when I studied in England and the bus would go down the street and outside was just a sea of yellow, rippling in the wind, and inside I sat in bliss.

So I gathered some up this morning and brought them inside and they look lovely in the finally-cleaned kitchen.

Next up: laundry.

Daffodils
by William Wordsworth

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 but be 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.

(I remember, this was one of my fourth-grade memory poems.)
I just looked it up and Wordsworth lived in England (I probably should have known that)so of course he had to write about daffodils. How could you not?

Happy Saturday!

The Homeschool Experiment

~ a novel ~

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