A brief history of daffodils
Daffodils have been part of my life for as long as I can remember. Born in Hampshire's New Forest, my roots lie deep in the rich soil of southern England, yet my childhood was one of perpetual motion as my family moved from one home to another, prompted by advances in my father's career. Across my ever-changing world, daffodils became a constant. As each winter receded they appeared anew, a radiant signal that the bleakest English season was done with and the New Year truly on its way. By the time I hit my teens, my family's travelling halted and we settled in the countryside a few miles from a Thames Valley village. My new home was surrounded by towering woodland dissected by pathways that had been trod for centuries, dappled meadows carpeted all-too-briefly with bluebells - and each spring what felt like acres of drifting daffodils.
It was then that I absorbed the fact, without ever having to think about it, that the daffodil is not one flower but many. Ours blossomed in a prismatic kaleidoscope of colours, from tissue paper white to the deepest blood orange, and in a melange of flower forms and sizes. Some were elfin, others giants brandishing flowers that ranged in shape: classic golden trumpets, creamy stars with twisting petals, tiny butter-lemon cups. As one daffodil variety melted away, another materialised to take its place, a rhythmic dance through the spring chill that lasted, it seemed to my young mind, for ages. The blossoms were beautiful, injecting a lifeblood of colour into the drained winter landscape and we took them for granted. After all, they were simply daffodils.
'The Daffodil, as grown in our gardens, is a purely English flower.' George Herbert Engleheart, introduction to Daffodil Growing for Pleasure and Profit by Albert F. Calvert, 1929.
Daffodil: Biography of a Flower by Helen O'Neill (Harper Collins, £18.99)