Which is all the thought of Spring is at the moment here on The High Plains of New Mexico. Our grass is still dun colored and there isn't even the HINT of buds, blooms, or blossoms. Well, that's not entirely true... the tulips have put up two-inch green shoots, so there's that... and the weather has warmed considerably, as well. Spring is springing elsewhere in these United States, tho, and I read the First Post of Spring... with photos!... over at Blog-Bud Dan's place this morning. Dan posted some beautiful photos of his blooming daffodils, which speak to me of Spring like nothing else.
Daffodils... whether in photos or in real life... also fire off memories. Herewith one such:
Spring
Photo Credit: Anita Martinz from Klagenfurt, Austria (via Wikipedia)
It won't be long until we see tulips, daffodils, and other Spring bulbs bursting from the ground, what with today being the first day of Spring. The crocuses have already come and gone in some places...I've seen them bloom in the snow oftentimes in other parts of the world where I've lived... but for most of us the glories of Spring are just now arriving.
My all-time favorite memory of Spring flowers involves rounding a bend and swooping down a stone-walled lane into a tiny Cotswold village not far from where I lived in High Wycombe, England back in the early '80s. It was on a chilly Sunday morning in early Spring and I was out for a morning ride, alone. This village couldn't have been home to more than 500 souls, but there were literally thousands of bright yellow daffodils in full-bloom lining both sides of the lane leading into and out of the village. It was a breath-taking sight, and that is understatement of the highest order.
I immediately headed back for home after trundling through the village, parked the bike outside the house upon arrival (leaving it running), and burst into my living room, surprising the living HELL out of The Second Mrs. Pennington. I simply said "Grab your helmet, put on your jacket, and come with me! Now!", my outburst being more order than request. She complied... albeit in a somewhat perplexed manner... asking where we were going. I only replied "You'll see."
And see we did. I retraced the exact same route I had taken about a half hour earlier, except this time I approached the village just a little slower while reaching back and tapping TSMP's leg just as we entered the village. I could hear her "Ooooh!" exclamation over the noise of the bike's motor and rush of wind as I slowed to a veritable crawl. We pulled over to the side of the lane, parked the bike and spent about a half-hour walking the lane, drinking in the beauty of the flowers and the tiny thatched-roof houses in the village. And there wasn't a soul to be be seen anywhere, strangely enough. Just the two of us, amid a riot of daffodils on a quiet Sunday Spring morning in Britain.
It doesn't get much better than that, Gentle Reader.
―:☺:―
Today's Pic: Our mount on that glorious Spring morning... my old RD350LC, on the day I sold her... the week before I left Ol' Blighty. Notice my pallor. That comes from living in a country where I might have seen full sun on perhaps seven occasions over the course of three years. OK... I exaggerate... but not by a whole helluva lot.
Spring is just around the corner. I wish I could sweep around a corner in the crisp Spring air and into a daffodil-festooned Cotswold village one more time. Just ONCE more.
Those are the best memories, Buck (but you knew that, and I think you might have said it, too, so never mind me.)
ReplyDeleteMy favorite, in a similar vein, involved a forsythia bush and its very intoxicating scents. It pretty much reached out and grabbed my olfactory a good city block before I saw it. I aimed for it like a cartoon mouse sniffing some cheese, almost floating along on the aroma trails. That was some 45 years ago and I've never forgotten the headiness of it.
Ah, forsythia. I have some great memories there, too. My home in Detroit had a very large and well-established den of forsythia and its perfume was overpowering in the BEST possible way.
ReplyDeleteAnd then there's lilacs. Spring has many wondrous things.
Ah gees Buck. You just took me back to the farm. There was a gloriously HUGE bunch of lilacs in the back yard and more in the front by the door that were wonderful in the spring.
ReplyDeleteBuck, thanks for the link. And thanks also for the link to this older post which you left me in a comment. That's a great story. And the "pallor" you speak of at the end is not stretched too much at all. When we were there in '87 (for 3 weeks), we saw the sun only 2 days. But still, a great and enjoyable trip.
ReplyDeleteRe forsythias. The big one at the end of my drive has buds, but so far is holding back. It's an old bush (at least 25 years old) and is perhaps wiser in its sap, knowing that there can still be frosts in middle TN right on up till April). It's not a good thing to be nipped in the bud. And that holds true for plants OR people!
Such an idyllic memory. I didn't read other comments before making my own. A game I sometime play, but, wow. Perfect to the scene you laid!
ReplyDeleteI like flowers and they can be awesome, but they are not my thang. The only time I have been really overwhelmed by them was in Canada. They can grow some amazing floweres there.
ReplyDeleteI do have a memory of laying in a field of dandelions in NM when my baby sister was about 4 and I was 16. I sketched while she played in the flowers. It is one of her good memories too.
What a lovely post and photo. I love you to bits Mr Pennington.
ReplyDeleteThere are great big clumps of daffodils in our park. But they seem to be stuck on green at the moment. All the crocuses had a hard time too. It's so damn cold.
Word verification: beersize
Deb: I love lilacs too (as noted). I had this HUGE stand of lilacs right outside my office window at RAF Uxbridge... and my office was in an old 1920s-vintage building with REAL windows you could open. You can't imagine how perfumed the air was when the lilacs were in bloom. OTOH, I think you CAN (imagine).
ReplyDeleteWhen we were there in '87 (for 3 weeks), we saw the sun only 2 days.
I love the British climate... it's hardly ever COLD... as in sustained, below zero crap... and the summers are mild by our standards, as well. But it can be miserable as all get-out when a heat wave DOES hit. Most British homes don't have AC and neither do the pubs. I've been in London on a 90-degree day and it's MISERABLE.
Moogie: I play your game at times, too... just to see if I'm unique. Well, we both know I AM unique in that short-bus kinda way. ;-)
Thanks for the kind words.
Lou: While flowers ain't YOUR thang, dandelions ain't MINE! ;-)
Alison: The feelin' is mutual, M'Dear! Nice veri-word!
OH YES! Spring flowers are the best! We've visited the Cotswolds in the summer. I so envy you living there for a while...except for the lack of sun part...I do need me some regular sun.
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing a lovely memory. I could see the field of daffodils in my mind's eye. And I would LOVE to sweep around a corner in the crisp Spring air and into a daffodil-festooned Cotswold village,too...let me know when we're going...
Ah - even the crocuses are resolutely remaining underground around here right now. Eventually they, and everything else, will pop up seemingly overnight.
ReplyDeleteLilacs - they were my dad's favorite spring flower and everytime I even see them, I am taken back to my childhood; we had a row of enormous lilacs at the bottom of the hill of our backyard; daddy and I would pick them together, smelling them so much that we'd take SO long getting the picking done.
Right now, after this horrifying winter, I just want - green. Any kind of green.
And I will force it. Forsythia is great forced; just take some branches from the ends - keep them at least 2 feet long, even up to 3. Take them indoors and literally smash about 4 inches of the ends with a hammer; not to a pulp but pretty close. Put them in water, keep the water refreshed everyday and in about 4-5 days you will have Forsythia blooming in your house.
We resort to such things in New England after a long slogging hard winter.
...let me know when we're going...
ReplyDeleteHeh. Just as soon as I renew my passport. That's a long-standing sort of inside joke here at EIP, Red. My passport expired seven years ago and I often mention I have no intention of renewing it.
Kris: I HEAR ya about this winter. It's been way too long and waaay too hard. That was a nice memory about your father and the lilacs... thanks for that.