There's a moment in late March when you clock that the daffodils are nearly done. One day they're everywhere — verges, garden borders, that bit of scrubby grass by the roundabout — appearing around the same time as the red dead nettle in the hedgerows you've driven past a hundred times — and then you look again and they've gone papery at the edges, and you've nearly missed it. I went out on a grey Tuesday with the camera and got there just in time. Just.
A flower with deep roots
Depending on the variety and where you are, daffodils can appear anywhere from January through to April. Which is useful, because it means if you've missed them in one place, somewhere nearby is usually just catching up. Early varieties, a mild winter, a south-facing bank — they all shift the window. Worth knowing.
Here's something most people don't know: daffodils aren't actually native to Britain at all. They come from southern Europe and North Africa originally. The Romans brought them over, apparently convinced they had healing properties. Whether that worked out is lost to history, but the Romans eventually left and the daffodils stayed — which tells you everything you need to know about the daffodil's ability to make itself at home.
The Welsh connection — and a happy accident
Ask anyone what flower represents Wales and they'll say: the daffodil. The slightly awkward truth is it's only been that way since the late 19th century. The daffodil's Welsh name is cenhinen Bedr — "Peter's leek" — and the working theory is that the similarity to the Welsh word for leek (cenhinen) caused a few centuries of cheerful confusion. A national symbol built on a possible mix-up. Honestly, very on brand for Britain.
"A national symbol built on a possible mix-up. Honestly, very on brand for Britain."
It certainly helps that St David's Day falls on the 1st of March, right when the daffodil is at its most insistent. David Lloyd George — Prime Minister, famously the only one to speak English as a second language — was a great champion of the flower, reportedly pushing for it to feature at the investiture of the future Edward VIII. A man with strong opinions about daffodils. Respect.
Folklore and superstition
In Welsh tradition, spotting the first daffodil of the year is supposed to bring good luck and a bit of wealth for the months ahead. Which seems like a reasonable return for paying attention on a walk in February.
On the darker side: never give someone a single daffodil. Always a bunch, or apparently you're inviting misfortune in. The Victorians took it further still — daffodils planted in graveyards, cut flowers in the house said to cause madness. Perhaps wisely, they kept them outside.
And here's a genuinely wonderful footnote: daffodils are grown in Wales to produce galantamine, a compound used in the treatment of Alzheimer's disease. This flower that announces spring — often overlapping with the first cherry blossom — is also, quietly, doing something rather important, a compound used in the treatment of Alzheimer's disease. This flower that announces spring is also, quietly, doing something rather important. Not bad for something you can buy outside a petrol station in February.
Go and find them
If you're reading this in late March you might still have a few days. Head to a woodland edge, a country lane verge, anywhere a bit unmanaged — that's usually where the stragglers hold on longest. Take your camera. Get down low with them. They won't be there next week.
The daffodil will be back next February. But this afternoon, this exact quality of light — that's a one-time offer. The cherry blossom said the same thing, three weeks ago. Neither was wrong.
