There’s something about old houses in the country that seem to showcase mature gardens, old lilacs and apple trees, meandering forsythia bushes, and banks of daffodils. At least that is true for this old homestead. The first few years we lived here, every season brought surprises. Pawpaws and persimmons, hickory nuts and walnuts, even hazelnut bushes. And flowers. Old varieties that don’t appear in any catalog. You can spot old farms long after the houses are gone by the daffodils that persist and show their colors each spring.
Our yard is blessed with many varieties of daffodils. I love their nodding yellow heads in the warm spring breezes. The largest patch near the woodshed is always the first to come out, sometimes even through a late snow. Then there are the doubles that seem to “walk” towards the creek a little bit more each year. And another variety with two colors. Some large, some small.
This week I’ve been picking bouquets for the house and the studio. Oh, the joy of the season! But the season won’t last for long so I’ve been in a painting frenzy with a different spring painting each day.