Many of you no doubt have grown tired of atmospheric rivers, Nor’easter blizzards, and bomb cyclones with “sting jets” like a “scorpion’s tail descending from the sky.” I would be happy, from my perch in Kentucky, for a clean break from devastating winds and floods. On the other hand, I challenge anyone to tell me, during this recent stretch of wildly unpredictable weather, if you’ve grown weary of daffodils.
Annie and Joel LeGris in Salvisa, KY
Ten days ago I took a bouquet of daffodils to 97-year-old Betty Brooke McCord. (I enjoy taking cut flowers to her every few weeks.) At Betty Brooke’s house, her son, my friend Walter McCord, mentioned a certain daffodil party pooper. PhillipLarkin, tired of Wordsworth’s joyful ode, wrote: “Deprivation is for me is what daffodils were for Wordsworth.” Larkin’s daffodil snub leads me to assume the English poet was a crank—or pretended to be one.
Bruce Eveslage’s invitation, for the return of a party once known as the Daffodil Doo Dah, arrived on March 3rd, the same day that a vicious and a little-too-exciting storm, dropped thousands of trees and knocked out power for tens of thousands of homes over portions of central Kentucky. We lost a huge white pine, and power for four days, yet it was impossible to ignore the extraordinary beauty, and even the arrogance of our daffodils—sturdy and unfazed by near hurricane-force winds.
Merriam-Webster describes a doodah as a “state of tremulous excitement.”
“Science and gardening are bedfellows, but not as snug as they should be,” Robin Lane Fox wrote in the Financial Times Weekend edition on February 19th. “My impression is that science and gardening are now in more of an embrace. One good reason is that the changing climate has brought them together.”
A fitful, climate-warming embrace.
Rose, Steve Ricketts and Rufus.
Nevertheless…
Now, each late winter, fed up with damp, cold and gray, Rose and I grow desperate for the triumphant return of ten thousand daffodil blooms—or more.
We had barely cut our first bouquets of daffodils when the temperature hit 80 F (27 C) on March 1st. This struck me as too much like summer, and I am not in a rush for summer’s heat and humidity. I worship at the altar of Kentucky’s natural beauty in spring, but we are not out of the winter woods in March.
The intense low-pressure system swept through two days later, producing “violent thunderstorms, dangerous winds, flooding and several small tornadoes,” according to the weekly Harrodsburg-Herald. Climate’s new abnormal slapped us with wind gusts approaching 70 mph.
It was a perfect storm
The ground was softened from 2.5 inches of rain, and for the second year in a row, another big white pine was toppled. What a mess.
Mac Reid, my friend, a landscape architect who lives a mile from us in Salvisa, has been cutting up fallen trees for a month. He reminded me, “Anything worth having comes with benefits and risks, trees included.”
Rose and I began binge planting 500 daffodil bulbs in the fall of 2011. We chose good, affordable naturalizers: Ice Follies, Barret Browning, Delibes, Fortune, Salome and the poet’s daffodil—Narcissus actaea. There are few plants this easy to grow that can last for generations.
Since the first planting we have seen flood waters try to drown portions of our daffodils and heavy, wet snow weigh them down. They persevere with cheerful indifference.
Salvisa daffodils coming up in the snow in 2018.
Rufus this year on a frosty St. Paddy’s Day. The daffodils bounced back.
We have held our own spontaneous Daffodil Doo Dahs
Pop up Doo Dah in Salvisa 2019
Despite the storm, two-acres of blooming daffodils in the bottomland below the barn felt surreal, like “riding a gravy train with biscuit wheels.” Friends and neighbors dropped by to gawk at the fallen pine tree and stare in wonder at the daffodils. Pick-your-own bouquets were encouraged.
A few friends who straddle the Ohio River between Kentucky and Indiana have celebrated daffodils since the first-known Daffodil Doo Dah in 2002. This has become Bruce Eveslage’s Mardi Gras. Damn past and future storms. Laissez les bon temps rouler.
Swampview Daffodil Doo Dah 2002
Swampview Daffodil Doo Dah 2010
Eveslage’s daffodil tradition was put on hold during the pandemic but returned this year as the Time Warp Doo Dah 2023,scheduled for April 1st. No fooling.
The Doo Dah invitation was accompanied with photos from previous Daffodil Doo Dahs. Eveslage, the talented one-time dessert chef at Louisville’s Afro-German Tea Room (and recently retired professional gardener), is curious, artful and has the most infectious laugh in the gardening world. Bruce has lived most of his life in Floyds Knobs, Indiana, across the Ohio River from Louisville. He named his 20-acre Shangri-La: Swampview. The name was a response to real- estate developers who come up with dreamy names for subdivisions, such as Poplar Ridge, and then cut down all the tulip poplars. There is no swamp, but there is a nice view where Bruce has planted water-tolerant bald cypresses that now accompany a few native sycamores in a wet area.
The day of the Doo Dah arrived
Our daffodils have been two weeks earlier than normal; Bruce’s were right on schedule.
Swampview, Floyds Knobs, Indiana
Bruce Eveslage and Scott Haub
The name Daffodil Doo Dah is within the public’s domain. It is free for any of you to use as you please. Don’t be shy. Go ahead and plant 50 daffodils in the fall and host your own party next spring.
My granddaughter demonstrated her daffodil-planting expertise in 2015.
There is plenty of wonder left
It is wildflower season in the moist woods of Floyds Knobs, Indiana and Salvisa, Kentucky. There are tons of wake robins, Virginia bluebells, mayapples and toothworts. What could be more beautiful.
The tremulous excitement is far from over.
I love the idea of the Doo Dah and I want to plant more daffodils so I will plant in the fall. Charming story that brightened my day. Thanks.
Thank you, Sue. And thanks to Bruce Eveslage. His Daffodil Doo Dahs are always on the sunny side of life.
“Gravy train with biscuit wheels”. My new favorite expression. Never can have too many daffodils
Tibs, here’s to riding on your gravy train with lots more daffodils.
I love this..I come from a long line of daffodil planters. We now live on land where my parents planted bulbs for over 60 years. I planted many in KY at our previous house now I continue to plant hundreds each year here in Indiana. Every time I see a daffodil I smile. Thanks for the article.
Becky, I am impressed. Big smile on my end. Not often I hear from a legacy daffodil planter. Keep the tradition going.
I loved this! Thanks, I hope to host a Daffodil Doo Dah when it finally warms up enough for a daff or two.
Thanks, Lisa. I can confirm that spring is on the way. Hang in there.
Great post and Rufus is adorable!
Thank you, Judy. Rufus is a cute boy, but he was a little embarrassed with the St. Paddy’s outfit.
Marianne Willburn said it correctly, “Getting an email from Allen Bush is like someone handing you a hot cup of tea and a warm cookie”. Reading this Daffodil Doo Dah story is exactly the same! My daffodils are JUST beginning to open here in Chicagoland. This is a day off for me, I am going outside to clean up some of my garden beds and have a Daffodil Doo Dah all on my own! Thank you, Allen!
Jennifer, I’m glad I posted this on your day off when your daffodils are JUST coming into bloom, but you’ve got to invite at least one or two people over for your Daffodil Doo Dah. I’m not saying you can’t feel the “tremulous excitement” on your own, but the more the merrier. And to hell with winter.
I used to sort of look down my nose at daffs because they “only bloom for a short time”. And then somebody pointed out, “Well duhhh, most everything blooms briefly”. Oh. That’s true. Azaleas, viburnums, mockoranges….the only all-seaon bloomer l can think of is dandelions.
I plant daffodils now. But l still discriminate against orange-ish colored ones….
Laura, I’ll forgive you for discriminating against “orang-ish colored ones.” I’m not so crazy about ‘King Alfred’ but he gets a pass if that’s all that’s left in the bargain bin at season’s end.
Jovial, good-natured, lovely and lively spirited article cheers up a nation of Garden Ranters. I’ll buy whatever you’re selling, love the positivity, the joy, the energy in this writing so much and such fun ideas here. So good to come here to read and feel part of a group. That didn’t take long, only 43 years. Hah! I’ll always plant a mess of daffs. I was just marveling today (since reading Susan Harris’ latest piece) on how easily 15 or so “Pink Charm” daffodils have made a new area under my red maple tree into a viable bed. Those daffodils fought through less than favorable red maple feeder roots and clay. I added baby, tiny hellebores, other tiny treasure bulbs like crocus, shallow rooted pansies, and voila. Here I am, 3-4 years later with a bed that has begun to take shape. Wish you could see it!
Amanda, I’m imagining your planting of ‘Pink Charm’ under the red maple and it looks lovely. Glad you found us at Garden Rant. Stay tuned.
I love daffodils too. For one thing they are so cheerful and faithful. As a gardener I often notice many houses where the only thing growing on a little green lawn is a bunch of daffodils. Always makes me think that even when gardener gives up,
the daffodils keep going! Thanks for your cheerful report.
Yes, Christine, daffodils keep on going. I see them planted in odd places, especially out in the countryside, and I always want to know the story about who planted them.
What a fabulous idea! Sorry to hear about the storms and the damage they are causing. Hard to lose trees. We are just emerging from winter’s grip. Too much snow and cold for the daffs yet but the snow crocus popped up a few days ago. Warms the heart. Does your granddaughter continue to plant daffodils now? Good to teach them early and hope they carry on.
Thank you, Elaine. We’ve got more storms coming again tomorrow and, yet, it is so beautiful now. We ride these wild waves. I’m glad winter is fading in your rear-view mirror. MY granddaughter is 16 now and on a teenage sabbatic leave from daffodil planting. I’m confident she’ll be back to gardening one day.
Will keep my fingers crossed she was smitten by the gardening bug. Hope the storms aren’t too severe.
She’s got the bug alright. The tornado warning has ended. Thanks for thinking about us.
Philip Larkin was for sure a tongue-in-cheek crank, and a brilliant one. Witness this:
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48419/this-be-the-verse
Chris, thanks for adding the Poetry Foundation link. My friend turned me onto this last week. Some good stuff.I was impressed, while reading the biogrpahy, that a reviewer said Larkin was able to ignore “any audience but himself.”
I love seeing the daffodils on the road side of the right of way fence. You can tell someone tossed a bunch of landscape debris at one time and the daffs survived and multipled.
Tibs, what I commonly see around Kentucky, along roadsides, are what people here call the Lent lily. Others call it the Tenby daffodil. Pretty ordinary but long lived. I hope to plant some somewhere this fall, maybe out near the road.
Huh – it’s one thing to pinch our sweet little daffs, it’s another to call them ‘ordinary’!
I take back “ordinary.” The Tenby daffodil is a lovely, little thing.
I have planted over 200 daffodils the last two years. They are cheery. I try new varieties.
Very much enjoyed this rant and the accompanying images, Allen! Spring is so very slow to arrive here this year in east central MN. Daffodil foliage is just starting to poke out of our cold soils. Happy spring!
Lucky you, Mike. You’ve got daffodils ahead of you. They’re coming, they’re coming.
Daffodils ARE amazing. We have red pine that was planted in the 1960’s that we had thinned in the late 1990’s. That spring, I looked out and thought someone had left yellow garbage in our woods. Turns out, it was daffodils blooming after 30 or more years because they were finally getting enough light. There were daylilies, too. Resilience. I love them even if they are “non-natives”. Our bees do, too. I had so many when I redid my front bed, I had to plant the extras in the hayfield. I might need to have a Doo Dah but it would be much later than those in Kentucky.
Kris, that’s some kind of wonderful resilence, Beautiful. Welcome to spring. I thought we’d reached the end of our daffodil blooms in Kentucky, but I caught a glimpse of some along a fence row while driving back to Salvisa from Lexington today. I should have stopped for a closer look. Too few for a Doo Dah. Well, I don’t know about that. Maybe a Doo Dah for one.