The morning sun, yes, the sun, is rising through the Hope Bay Forest which comes almost right up to my front door. And there they are – in part of the large garden of perennials a strong, extraordinary woman planted many years ago with so much care and devotion – a “host of golden daffodils,” risen and now blooming.
Surely, these are inspiring creatures. Yes, “creatures.” They have life and spirit: no other flower nourishes our souls like these after a long, cold Canadian winter: they will never let us down; they show us how to raise our heads happily again. They are the early spring flowers of hope. They are divine. They have power. They make music.
In her heart Wilma (Tucker) Butchart, born and raised and lived all her life in Hope Ness, knew that. So, did the great English poet William Wordsworth, :
I wandered lonely as a Cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and Hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden Daffodils;
Beside the Lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
For the full poem, here is a link to Wordsworth Trust, a website that celebrates the poet, and perhaps his most famous work.
It’s a good day dawning.