To be frank, they’re a little ridiculous, no? Say the word to yourself over and over again. Daffodil. Daffodil Daffodil. The court jester of flowers, complete with trumpet and collar. And the color, how would one describe it? Limonata, lemoncello, yellow submarine? Papaya-lemon-jellow-whip-chiffonade-sundae? You’re welcome, Benjamin Moore.
Daffodilly. But irresistible in some strange way. The true harbinger of spring in the city; bottegas in every borough selling bunches of 10 daffodils for $5. How can one resist? I couldn’t, because between you and me, the shizzels are even cheaper wholesale. So I bought 40 or so. Daffodils are quick openers, and they were fully bloomed in an hour or so. I sat and looked over the yellow mess. What to do? What does one mix with daffodillius?
I furrowed in the back for a simple vase and dug out a petite Chinese vase. Voila – perfection with three stems. I found an old tin pail and packed some in there. I cut the stems at different lengths to get a bit of texture and then stepped back to bask in the florescent glow…I started fantasizing about stenciling blue ducks in a border around my kitchen…Alarmed, I quickly disassembled the mess and went on to create something a bit more varied. Three poppies, a bit of mimosa, then filled it in with daffodils. Teal ribbon. Now I rest easier. Narcissus (the genus to which Daffodils belong) deserve more attention than this, to be conquered in coming weeks…but for now au revoir mes petits! Next week I come to you from Paris, France.