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.