#0011: Queen of the Daffodils
Updated: Jun 2
When I first moved to Smithy Cottage, the winter felt endless. Grey skies. Constant rain. No central heating.
Then, one day, I left the village, crossed the hump back bridge and, both literally and figuratively, I turned a corner.
Standing there, proud of the verge, was a lone daffodil. My first of the year. It felt like the first real colour I'd seen in months. I smiled to myself. And then I spotted another.
Hundreds of them. Perhaps thousands. Lining both sides of the road for about half a kilometre.
Walking up the hill, I found myself surrounded on both sides by countless varieties. Different shapes and sizes and shades of brilliant yellow, dancing in the breeze, making the most of the early Spring light.
And there, hunched over the verge, tending to the flowers, I met Jennifer. She had planted every single bulb herself, adding more with each passing year. It's back breaking work, so I had to ask what drove her.
Her answer was simple.
To make people smile.
We chatted for a while, then I carried on up the hill. When I got home later that day, there was a bunch of daffodils waiting on the doorstep.
These days, Spring doesn't really start for me until I've taken my first walk up Daffodil Alley to see the blooms.
If you visit the Secret Coast at this time of year, keep your eyes out for them. You can't really miss them. If you're really lucky though, you might chance upon Jennifer too, Queen of the Daffs.