submitted bt SK via comments

So we talk a lot about big things on this site. High mountains, long roads, wide open spaces, big buildings. Nothing wrong with that, but sometimes we need to put our heads down and look at small things that can delight us. Especially as spring is not far off.

As I walked around the farm this past week dreaming of warmer weather, looking down, I saw first only layers of leaves and hundreds of downed branches and twigs to be collected. The aftermath of winter’s high winds cleaning the trees of their debris and dead bits.

The soil is still frozen hard in most places but I know it is teaming with life. Millions and millions of micro organisms, creepy crawlers and worms ready to get to work when the sun warms them.

I found some small signs of life, green shoots here and there, hiding under leaves, and began to think about spring flowers. Daffodils in temperate parts are sometimes called Lenten Lillies because they begin to appear around the the time of Ash Wednesday and disappear around Easter Sunday.

My old farm is not in what anyone would call a temperate climate. It is susceptible to the dreaded Albert Clippers that hurl themselves down from the northern prairies bringing frigid winds, sub zero temperatures and snow. The local TV weatherman years ago used to refer to them as Alberta Hookers. I never knew if he was joking around or if that was another scientifically accepted name for them.

Still despite the bitter cold, there are very small parts of the garden that are sunny and sheltered. In one of those little spots, protected from wind and cold they arrived, like clockwork, last week. A tiny, shiny, cluster of happy daffodils. They had burst into flower on Pancake Tuesday and brightened an otherwise grey February day. They reminded me of the first line of a poem: “The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here.” For it is indeed still winter and yet there they are. Brave little flowers, planted many decades ago my mother, reaching for the winter sun. They may yet come to regret their precocity as temperatures have plunged again this week.

Daffodils have inspired so many poems.
Housman wrote:

“Tis spring; come out to ramble
The hilly brakes around,
For under thorn and bramble
About the hollow ground
The primroses are found.
And there’s the windflower chilly
With all the winds at play,
And there’s the Lenten lily
That has not long to stay
And dies on Easter day.”

Wordsworth wrote probably the best loved one

“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.”

So here below my first little daffodils to cheer a Lenten week for those in a cold grey climate

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