Daffadowndillys – The cloths of heaven
A group of daffodils growing around a derelict cottage will cause you to think about the person who may have planted them.
This time of year, if you walk by an old farm house or a deserted cottage, you will generally see bunches of daffodils popping up here and there. In most cases they are a reminder of simpler times, times when such homes were busy and alive and full of hope.
In certain situations, isolated groups of daffodils in the corner of a green field may even mark a site where a simple cottage once stood. The patches of bright yellow are now the only sign that such a home ever existed.
The daffodil, while very much at home in the environs of the Ox Mountain, is not a native flower. Kew Gardens in London has some information of their origins.
Daffodils came to this part of the world by way of Roman expansion. The Romans are known to have planted narcissus in memory of loved ones or comrades fallen in battle. It’s likely they brought daffodils to Britain from Spain and Portugal, where the largest variety of daffodil species are found.
Daffodils have inspired writers, poets and artists through the centuries. A favourite flower among the Romantic poets, they were immortalised by Wordsworth in his poem , one of the most famous in the English language. The line ‘A host of golden daffodils’ recalls the swathes of wild flowers discovered by the poet on a walk in the Lake District in April 1802.
Over the centuries, daffodils have been given many common or local names including, daffodowndilly, yellow maiden and Lent lily, a reference to their flowering season in the run-up to Easter.
The daffodil is the national flower of Wales, worn on St David's Day, March 1. One of the more recent Welsh symbols, the daffodil, became associated with Wales in the 19th century when it started gaining popularity. By the 20th century, Prime Minister David Lloyd George, who was himself a Welshman, chose to wear a daffodil on St David’s Day.
A bit like our own St Patrick, St David was a leading figure in the early Christian Church who lived in Wales in the sixth century. He founded a monastic community living a simple, austere life in the Celtic monastic tradition which connected the people of Wales with Ireland, Cornwall, France and Scotland.
The daffodil is not just a pretty face and indeed they are the source of many interesting facts.
A substance extracted from daffodil bulbs, galantamine, is used as a treatment for Alzheimer’s disease. Extracts from daffodils have been used as traditional medicines for a wide variety of diseases, including tumours, for thousands of years.
All species of daffodil are poisonous to humans — the leaves, bulb and stem contain the highly toxic chemical, lycorine.
Daffodils have been grown commercially since the 19th century for sale as ornamental plants. The wild daffodil is a member of the Amaryllidaceae family which also contains Agapanthus, Alliums, like onions and garlic, and Galanthus, like snowdrops.
Daffodils grow from a bulb. The flowers produce seeds which, when germinated, take five to seven years to produce a flowering plant.
In Irish mythology, the daffodil was associated with the goddess Brigid, who represented the arrival of spring and the return of new life to the land. Brigid was often depicted carrying a bunch of daffodils, which she used to bring about the rebirth of nature after the long, dark winter. Patti Wigington B.A. History at Ohio University, offers a few insights on daffodil folklore.
When I come across groups of daffodils growing around a derelict cottage, I often think of the person who may have planted them. Their simple flamboyance reflecting preparation and anticipation. They were not planted by accident. Someone at one time or another had the intention that these daffodils would brighten a particular corner, perhaps a whole future.
This spring, if you pass an old house with daffodils outside, build a story around them, because there is a story. Those daffodils were once part of someone’s dream. And if you should come on a patch of yellow daffodils growing in the corner of a green field, remember that there was once a home there, a cottage that has long since disappeared. The garden is gone, the people who lived there are long forgotten but each year, the daffodils still remember.
Maybe they were taken from another homeplace when a young woman married into this farm. Maybe she had spent a few years working in New York or Boston and had planted the daffodils at her new home as a reminder of her past life. Maybe they were a reminder of the daffodils she saw growing each spring in Central Park or Boston Common, where she walked out with her Italian sweetheart, that spring before she was called home to look after her widowed mother. The daffodils in this cottage garden are more than bright spring flowers, they are the thrill of romance, the excitement of new beginnings… or perhaps they were planted some years later to mark the little grave of an unbaptised baby.
