Damp Daffodil Day

Spring is a tad backward this year, because of our recent strong-fingered and persistent winter.

At 3AM last night, when I went outside to look to see if the lunar eclipse might be seen, the reward for a middle-of-the-night rising was not  a rust-red sanguinary and diffuse moon, but soft, sweet, salty spring nighttime air, laden with smells of thaw and awakening life.

A few hours later, with the arrival of light, I went to the yard edges to admire the first daffodils of this spring season.

I saluted the one of my beloved patches of messy, old-fashioned double daffodils. This variety, and others like it, have been around for hundreds and hundreds of years. Old Martha’s Vineyard houses often have clumps of these everywhere.

IMG_6046 IMG_6048

Last night was warm and damp.

Fog and showers had covered everything with droplets.


Surface tension pulls the droplets into spheroids.

The droplets act as lenses, magnifying the areas underneath them.



Focus: near and far.


Focus: far and near.


Bud sheaths have done their duty, have protected the flower bud, and now have split, have been pushed aside.



Now the sheaths are dried, are crinkly tans and browns.


They contrast so sharply with the flowers, which are bursting with water, color, fragrance, and light.


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