I believe that this is my favorite daffodil in my garden - it is on the smaller side, not tiny, just small - and I love the way the corona pushes outward, with the perianth going in the opposite direction - as if it is trying to take flight. I think this is a 1 Y-Y, but I don't remember the name of it. There were a number of bulbs that I planted when I first moved here, and I don't believe that I wrote their names down.
I'm getting better at that, the writing down of names.
This is a different Y-Y that is blooming, a Division 1 as well. I think this one might be the larger King Alfred - I know that I planted a number of these a few years ago. While I welcome them in my garden - I tend to not like the larger flowering daffodils as much as the smaller ones. I'm not sure why that is - but the smaller ones take my breath away.
I've had a fever today. Yesterday too I think. After dodging everything that has been going on for awhile, I finally got worn down I suppose. Drats. (Drats? Where did that word come from? It must be the fever. I don't think I've ever said drats before. Ever.)
I'm drinking scads (Scads? There goes that fever again!) of Martinelli's unfiltered apple juice. It could be that I just love the glass bottle that is shaped like an apple. It could be because it is nice to drink it from one of those large wine goblets. I'm assuming that there is a nutritional benefit - but I suppose it isn't necessary.
I was hoping to head up to Virginia tomorrow to visit my parents. I can't go if I am not well, can't risk that. Hopefully I'll feel better over the next few days, and be able to make a short trip up there.
My brother and I were talking on the phone tonight about our Father. The past year has been so difficult for him - the past few weeks especially so. This week my Mother had an MRI of her brain - because of some recent erratic behaviour. There was evidence that within the past week she had a TIA - a transient ischemic attack - or a 'warning stroke' or 'mini-stroke'. There is also the possibility of a metastasis in the brain (a tiny one that they will just follow for now) as well as another area on her 4th vertebrate that is suspicious. She is having her 11th of 12 radiation treatments tomorrow for the large area in her rib, and starts on a new chemo drug - Alimta - next Tuesday. Tonight she and my Father sound good - they are getting relief soon as a result of a longterm health care policy that they have - help with respect to daily responsibilities that one stops having time for (or the desire to deal with).
My Father has been married to my mother for 54 years - it will be 55 years on the 6th of June.
Tonight on the phone my brother said that our Father was a saint. My brother is right. I'll write more about this at some point - but during such a difficult time, he has behaved in such a way that makes my brother and I realize what a wonderful man he is - kind, remarkably patient, uncomplicated, caring. One morning he got up and went to the store, because suddenly, my Mother on chemotherapy could only imagine eating one of those silly, white sugar-powdered doughnuts. Or today, when he stopped by the store to get my Mother cantaloupe and watermelon, because he knows how good these fruits taste to her. On my frequent trips back to Virginia - starting during a trip last June, my Father and I have made time to wander the woods surrounding their home, in search of quartz rocks for me to bring home to my garden in South Carolina. Each time we gather a rock, or two or three, and slowly these rocks are filling in empty spaces in a front bed filled with ferns and hydrangeas and bulbs that is under the shade of a live oak tree. I realized today that there are quite a few rocks in my garden now - none quite so impressive as those another gardener has built into an elegant rock wall - but they nonethless make me feel closer to the land that I was raised on, and to a family that is struggling with a disease that is not kind. And the rocks remind me of my Father, who I am beyond grateful for.
On a much lighter note, may I make fun of my dogs? Each morning, I do things, oh, random things - but they generally know that when I take a shower, that soon thereafter I will leave to go off somewhere. They have joined together, and when I get out of the shower, they are now always lying on my bed, in an almost identical position -- pretending to be asleep. Their eyes are mostly closed, but sometimes I catch them watching me out of tiny slits -- and if I whisper one of their names, very quietly, that dogs tail will wag, and soon - the other dogs tail will wag too. I'm sure they are pretending to be asleep, hoping that perhaps I won't notice them, and that perhaps I won't leave.
Daffodils, Fathers and dogs.
Life is difficult, and I may have a fever, but it is also incredibly rich. I do recognize that.