Has no one else noticed?  There are very few daffodils blooming.  This unnerving phenomenon is particularly apparent in my garden.  I have planted shit loads of daffs and narcissus over the years and I anticipate enough blooms to cut  several dozen inside. “A host of golden daffodils.”  This year’s crop, front and back garden is a handful, maybe 7. No, not even 7.  My next neighbor usually has a drift on the side of her house facing my side door.  It is a micro climate that blooms in full glory at least a week before mine.  This year, she has less than a dozen.

When I mention this disturbing observation, people look at me blankly or make sympathetic sounds that suggest I may be losing some part of my brain.  What is going on?  To be fair, someone did say, “I’ve heard that from a few other gardeners.”

Some springs are late and the bulb plants fall all over each other to bloom in speedy succession. With our crazy winter-spring-winter-70 degree days cycle, I expected that. But that’s not what is happening.

I am missing the sight of the nodding yellow heads and particularly notice those that have bloomed.  I also miss a sort of hum, not a sound by a resonance, and it is that perception that has me wondering.  I’ve been reading and listening to talk about tree communication.   So, is there communication between smaller plants.  Did all but a very few daff bulbs decide that this crazy spring was a good one to sleep through?  Will they decide to pop up later or next year or ever?

Note from two days later: Forsythia appeared and now the tulips are getting preparing themselves.  Dystopian dreams are subsiding.  A few days of warmth followed by rains have greened lawns and promoted the showing of peony shoots and bush buds.  I still wonder about the daffodils but will move on, with slight trepidation, to other favorites.