The daffodils are beginning to bloom here. When I was little there was a name for them that use to make us all laugh. Those bright yellow pieces of spring sunshine were daffer-down-dillies and we use to skip along the field that led to the hill down to the creek where what seemed thousand of those golden flowers.
When we got there we'd all sit amongst the flowers and watch the wind and bees brush past them and then get up and run through them as fast as we could. Those days the blur of yellow and green gave an image of spring in the fast lane.
Today I can spend more time sitting and enjoying the daffodils, I can even contemplate the flower and it's soft crape paper like ruffled edges.
But I still call them daffer-down-dillies!
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