"Pay attention to the world." -- Susan Sontag
 

The Daffodils are Here! (4 of 4)

From “Perhaps You’d Like to Buy a Flower” in The Selected Poems of Emily Dickinson by Emily Dickinson:

Perhaps you’d like to buy a flower?
But I could never sell.
If you would like to borrow
Until the daffodil

Unties her yellow bonnet
Beneath the village door,
Until the bees, from clover rows
Their hock and sherry draw,

Why, I will lend until just then,
But not an hour more!

From Daffodil: The Remarkable Story of the World’s Most Popular Spring Flower by Noel Kingsbury and Jo Whitworth:

“By the late nineteenth century a wildflower became an economic resource, as daffodil flowers could now be sent to local markets. Daffodil production became a by-product of fruit-growing — the grass below the trees would be cut in late summer to make it easier to pick windfalls, which ensured that there would be reduced grass competition when the flowers emerged in spring; they would also be easier to pick. After World War I, Toc H, a Christian service organisation, promoted the picking of daffodils to cheer up hospital patients, and also began to sell daffodils at hospitals to raise money. Commercial picking also took off, especially since flowers were usually available for Mothering Sunday (the fourth Sunday of Lent), traditionally the beginning of the gardening season in Britain.

“During the late nineteenth century and early twentieth, the income from picking daffodils actually became quite important, as it was the only independent income for agricultural labourers in the area, doubly welcome for it being at a time of year when there were few other sources of income. Others joined in too, especially Gypsies and casual workers from the Midlands….


“The flowers became an early tourist attraction, with a special Daffodil Line train running between the villages and the nearby town of Newent.”


Hello!

This is the last of four posts featuring photos of daffodils from Oakland Cemetery’s Gardens, that I took in February. The previous posts in this series are The Daffodils are Here! (1 of 4); The Daffodils are Here! (2 of 4); and The Daffodils are Here! (3 of 4).

That’s it for the 2023 Daffodil Season!

I may rustle up some of these on black backgrounds, but unless I come across some not-so-far-photographed variations, I think I’ll move on to selections of other spring photos in my backlog: plum, apricot, and cherry blossoms; baby dogwoods (puppywoods?); batches of red, wild, and lady tulips; some early white irises; and a few other species that are so fresh out of the camera I haven’t identified them yet. Spring is very much springing!

Thanks for taking a look!









The Daffodils are Here! (3 of 4)

From “Hymn to Demeter” by Homer, quoted in Flowers and Their Histories by Alice M. Coats:

“The Narcissus wondrously glittering, a noble sight for all, whether immortal gods or mortal men; from whose root a hundred heads spring forth, and at the fragrant odour thereof all the broad heaven above and all the earth laughed, and the salt wave of the sea.”

From “Narcissus” in Flowers and Their Histories by Alice M. Coats:

“The flower thus praised by the ancient Greeks is believed to have been the Tazetta or bunch-flowered narcissus, which, besides being the most widespread of the genus, is also the one longest associated with man. Centuries before even the time of Homer, flowers of this species were used by the Egyptians in their funeral wreaths, and have been found in tombs, still wonderfully preserved after 3000 years. This was the flower, originally white, which was turned yellow by the touch of Pluto when he captured Persephone sleeping with a wreath of them on her hair; a legend which nicely accounts for the fact that there are yellow ‘polyanthus‘ species closely resembling the white ones….

N. poeticus, the poet’s narcissus, was also known to the (slightly less) ancient Greeks, and was probably the flower ‘whose Beauty they deduced in their wild Way, from the Metamorphosis of a celebrated Youth of the same Name’ — a story fabricated by the later poet, Ovid; both species were mentioned by Theophrastus, about 320 B.C….

Pliny says that the plant was named Narcissus because of the narcotic quality of its scent — ‘of Narce which betokeneth nummednesse or dulnesse of sense, and not of the young boy Narcissus, as poets do feign and fable’….

“The Furies wore narcissus flowers among their tangled locks, and are said to have used them to stupefy those whom they intended to punish. Some lingering wraith of this tradition may account for the belief that the scent of the narcissus is harmful, which persisted at least till the nineteenth century; the scent of the jonquil and the tazetta was particularly distrusted, and in close rooms, was considered ‘extremely disagreeable, if not actually injurious, to delicate persons’. It was said to cause headache, or even madness.”


Hello!

This is the third of four posts featuring photos of daffodils from Oakland Cemetery’s Gardens, that I took in February. The first post in this series is The Daffodils are Here! (1 of 4), and the second post is The Daffodils are Here! (2 of 4). For this post and the last one, I’m uploading photos of those that (mostly) fall into the tazetta or poeticus variations — some of which produce clusters of flowers on a single stem, all of which have white petals and display miniature orange or yellow (or orange AND yellow) “trumpets” at the centers. These are always my favorite daffodil varieties, and I was surprised just two days ago to see that there are still bunches of batches blooming, despite them having gotten off to an early February start.

Thanks for taking a look!








The Daffodils are Here! (2 of 4)

From “The Song of the Happy Shepherd” by W. B. Yeats in Collected Poems:

I must be gone: there is a grave
Where daffodil and lily wave,
And I would please the hapless faun,
Buried under the sleepy ground,
With mirthful songs before the dawn.
His shouting days with mirth were crowned;
And still I dream he treads the lawn,
Walking ghostly in the dew,
Pierced by my glad singing through,
My songs of old earth’s dreamy youth….

From Flowers and Their Histories by Alice M. Coats:

“The numerous wild species of narcissus are mostly centred about the Mediterranean, the great majority being indigenous to the Iberian peninsula, which is regarded as the centre of distribution of the genus. They may be divided for convenience into half a dozen major and some minor sections: the Ajax group, of daffodils with long trumpets; the short-cupped Poeticus group; the bunch-flowered Tazettas; the Incomparabilis, intermediate between Ajax and Poeticus; the Poetaz, between Poeticus and Tazetta; the Jonquils, and the various small rock-garden species such as triandrus and bulbocodium. Double forms occur in all these groups (except, perhaps, the last) and are in many cases of great antiquity….

“Our own wild daffodil or Lent Lily belongs to the first group, and was once so plentiful near London, that in 1581 the market-women of Cheapside were reported to sell the flowers in the greatest abundance, and all the shops were bright with them.”


Hello!

This is the second of four posts featuring photos of daffodils from Oakland Cemetery’s Gardens, that I took in February. The first post in this series is The Daffodils are Here! (1 of 4).

I first thought that the unusual flowers in the last six images might be a tulip variety — but after some digging around on the internet, I concluded (hopefully accurately) that it was a daffodil known both as Derwydd daffodil or Thomas’ virescent daffodil. This uncommon variant is a form of double daffodil — a daffodil that produces multiple rows of overlapping and clustered flower petals — and often features green, rather than yellow, as a dominant color.

Thanks for taking a look!







The Daffodils are Here! (1 of 4)

From “Lent Lily” by A. E. Housman in The RHS Book of Flower Poetry and Prose by the Royal Horticultural Society:

’Tis spring; come out to ramble
The hilly brakes around,
For under thorn and bramble
About the hollow ground
The primroses are found….

Bring baskets now, and sally
Upon the spring’s array,
And bear from hill and valley
The daffodil away….

From Garden Flora: The Natural and Cultural History of the Plants In Your Garden by Noel Kingsbury:

“There are some 70 species (and 27,000 cultivars) in the genus of the quintessential spring flower, whose centre of diversity is the mountains of the Iberian peninsula and the mountains just across the water in the Maghreb. One species, Narcissus pseudonarcissus, has a wide distribution in western Europe; N. poeticus (pheasant’s eyes) and several related species are found across the regions immediately north of the Mediterranean. The heavily fragrant white N. tazetta is found further eastwards around the Mediterranean into Iran; long traded on the Silk Road, it got as far as Japan centuries ago and has naturalised there….

“As with tulips and lilies, there is no sepal/petal distinction; what are commonly called petals are referred to technically as perianth segments. The daffodil cup (i.e., the trumpet), however, is a structure that has evolved independently and is unique to daffodils….

“Daffodils reappear faithfully every year, not just in gardens but wherever they may have been dumped decades ago — for these are true clonal perennials…. In the wild they are plants of light woodland, and open, but not unduly exposed, country….”


Hello!

The daffodils are here! Of course, they’re always here in March, but word on the street (that is, on the internet) has it that they bloomed earlier than usual this year — several weeks early, in mid-February — and I took most of these photos on February 22. I wasn’t actually daffodil-hunting that day — not really expecting any except those few that sneak into view early most years — and was surprised at how many were in bloom in the gardens, and how many had already past their blooming stage to look a bit raggedy around the edges. And as you can see in the third batch below, some were so early that they put their color out among gray sagebrush branches that hadn’t turned back to green yet.

Daffodil season may have started earlier than usual, yet it’s still going on. I originally had enough photos for three blog posts, but came across several fresh batches just a couple of days ago and — since I hadn’t yet posted any of the photos, decided to process them up and plan four posts instead of three. Two of the varieties mentioned in the Garden Flora quote above — N. poeticus and N. tazetta — will appear in the last two posts. The widely-dispersed and wildly common N.pseudonarcissus — with its pale yellow leaves and saturated yellow trumpet — are featured in this post, among the images in the middle galleries and through to the end.

Thanks for reading and taking a look!







Bernadine Clematis, 2022 Version

From Plant Families: A Guide for Gardeners and Botanists by Ross Bayton:

“[The Clematis] flower bud is enclosed by the sepals, which protect the inner workings of the flower. As it grows and expands, the sepals open up and become much more colorful, just like the petals within.”

From The Language of Flowers by Anne Pratt and Thomas Miller:

“Many plants, besides possessing tendrils, have a stem and leaf-stalks, which grow in a spiral slope, when the plant requires the support of another. Thus the traveler’s joy, or wild clematis, that beautiful ornament of our summer hedges, by its stems as well as tendrils, so clings to the bushes that it is impossible to sever a large portion without tearing it. The large clusters of flowers, and the numerous dark leaves, seeming to belong to the brambles among which they entwine, so closely are they interlaced by the convolutions of their stems.”


The fabulously oppressive heat and humidity that settled on large portions of the U.S. last week made outdoor activities — including photography! — possible only in short bursts, but it did give me some indoor time to work on a backlog of photos. This week is supposed to be even hotter, though much lower humidity may mean outdoor-things are more possible, especially in the mornings. Yesterday and today I heard the upcoming high temperatures referred to as a heatwave, heat blast, heat bomb, and heat dome — but I really think that if they’d just call it a “heat igloo” we’d all feel a lot cooler…. or not!

Earlier this year I posted photos of flowers from one of my clematis vines — see One Clematis, Two Clematis — but somehow I forgot about pictures I’d taken of another one: the Bernadine Clematis whose images appear below. My third clematis plant — a President Clematis (see President Clematis, from 2021) never bloomed this year: it started producing flower buds very early during a warm February, but they all got crinkled to death by a week of freezing temperatures shortly after. That’s a weird new weather pattern that This Gardener hasn’t quite figured out how to work with: early year temperatures in the 60s and 70s cause some plants (in my garden: clematis vines, hydrangeas, and ferns) to respond to the warmth by putting out delicate new growth too early, then they never quite recover from the freezing that follows.

I’ve posted photos of Bernadine here a few times; so this year I just took a double-handful of new photos, and focused on getting sharpness, color, and texture as correct and accurate as possible. This Bernadine blooms into a striking mix of blue, purple, violet, and magenta, in stripes that emanate from the center. The center structure features the deepest purple, so rich in color that it always reminds me of purple marzipan with a tiny yellow frosting cap. But I did not try to eat them, I promise; I only took their pictures.

Thanks for taking a look!