Many years ago, my young daughter and two friends made three little shelters at the edge of the woods with fallen branches, and in front of each entryway they planted a daffodil bulb to signify planting a garden and to mark where they had spent a long, gentle summer in play. It is not too much to believe that children in early tribal societies of southwest Europe or North Africa where the daffodil originated may have done similar things with similar tokens.
The shelters have now disappeared into the earth, where they belong. The girls have grown up and made their own homes, as they should. Only the daffodils remain to make me smile each morning as I glance into the woods and think of their voices ringing across the valley.
Thalia daffodils scattered amongst hellebores in mid-spring in my garden at Oldmeadow
We are at peak daffodil right now in my part of Virginia. Beyond those three little reminders of days gone past, each morning on my walk I am uplifted by the vibrance and energy of these flowers in gardens all over my community; but also by their effect on others, and the universal joy in them.
Well, perhaps not universal joy.
Don’t get too comfortable with daffodils
While researching the ecological value of daffodils and the genus Narcissus last week for another project, I came across three separate articles from American and British writers of just how terrible they are, and how we should be reexamining our relationship with them.
I am rarely disturbed by personal taste – one man’s daffodil is another man’s dandelion – but this wasn’t the source of my unease. These essays said something greater about culture, and anger, and the transference of human concepts of right and wrong, good and bad, natural and unnatural, upon species fulfilling that most natural of all processes: survival through reproduction and adaptation.
Some baddies doing a good thing — a quick bouquet put together for a friend
In each essay, the daffodil – the flower I had thought a universal joy of spring, and one beloved by gardeners and non-gardeners alike – had been cast as everything from pointless pretty boy, to symbolic oppressor, to countryside vandal. Are humans wrong – or worse, ignorant – to find joy in them?
The ability to comment, or to engage with the discussion was closed on all three articles (which is not unusual as they were over a year old), thus I’d been mulling over my thoughts on this issue ever since. And although I discussed it briefly on The Garden Mixer podcast, I wanted to explore it a little more here.
Where’s the nectar?
Though studies exist on several Narcissus species and their pollinators, it is challenging to find North American studies on the ecological contributions of the genus’ many cultivated varieties. And as so many taxa are hybrids, unless you are a bulb company with skin in the game (or the AI that mines that marketing for content), the going assumption seems to be that most are bereft of nectar, pollen, or fragrance.
I cannot speak upon nectar quantity or quality, as I haven’t the tongue of a bee or the lab of a researcher, but the pollen of many of the hybridized taxa I grow is just as present as that of the species. The fragrance – of interest to some pollinators – ditto.
Pollen grains from N. bulbicodium
Why then is the pollen relatively unattractive, when small bees have been visiting the non-native Galanthus, Helleborus and Iris since February? I can’t answer that, and hope that in time someone can; but as I mentioned above, the daffodil’s attractiveness to humans is not only obvious – in an age of increasing political turmoil and civil unrest, it is sorely needed. You don’t have to pick a team to appreciate a daffodil.
The daffodil is a tough sell for native plant purists
The least damning (and disturbing) of the three articles was a 2021 piece titled “The Daffodil Dilemma in My Wildlife Sanctuary” by Laura Markson, self-confessed “native plant purist” and founder of the non-profit organization Nurture Native Nature. Susan Harris also highlighted this article two years ago here (looks like it’s still doing well in search results for daffodil ecology).
Faced with the many admitted attributes of this non-native flower (low-care, deer resistant, possible horticultural gateway flower for the young), Markson still felt that it should not be planted in public parks (precisely where public funding is scarce), but admitted she had not yet ripped them out of her own garden where she’d planted them years before.
Instead, she’d granted them ‘neutral’ status – a cookie if you will to offer unenlightened neighbors who needed something familiar and beautiful to help them come to terms with her unique landscape choices.
Her essay read like a confession (in case you’d walked by her house and questioned the native plant purity she professed); but it also sent a subtle message to readers. Don’t be one of those ill-informed people who blindly grow daffodils. Or blindly adore them. Be better.
N. romieuxii – another very early favorite in my garden
Flower graffiti
A second article written in 2017 by British naturalist and former director of the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB) Mark Avery, essentially asked his audience that age-old Reddit question, “Am I the jerk?” in “Feral Daffodils — Don’t You Just…?”.
Avery felt himself called to “extreme irritation bordering on hate” when he glimpsed a small group of hybrid daffodils planted on the side of a busy road in the countryside, and wanted to know if he was the only one. By the looks of the comments, he wasn’t.
Let us examine for a moment the circumstances that inspire irritation so great that it borders upon hate. Regardless of their passport status, these are vigorous, photosynthesizing, carbon-ingesting, oxygen-creating, soil-improving organisms whose non-native, non ‘natural’ status is presumably put into sharp relief by their placement. Which is:
- Between the paved road and the human-planted hedgerow bordering an agricultural crop.
- From the vantage point of cars whizzing by.
- In a country that’s been crawling with humans for millennia.
Avery realizes that his words are bordering on the irrational, and yet…
“The reason they are here, in their irritating straight line or small pointless clump, is that someone has put them there. That’s why they aren’t on the other side of the road, or further on or further back; they are where they are because someone put them there and I find their beauty much diminished as a result.”
Are we still talking about daffodils?
Just to be exquisitely clear, a stranger stopped at the side of the road, and instead of throwing up, or tossing out an old mattress, or their sandwich wrappings, they chose instead to kneel down and plant a flower for other people to see.
A flower that didn’t need cossetting, or weeding, or curating, or anything more from anyone for a very long time. Much like the little ones in my woods. What a despicable act.
Coming across this clump of daffodils where no daffodils should be has the opposite effect on me – They signify a past human story, and I’m curious to know what it is.
Though Avery could find a place in his heart for the British (and European) native Narcissus pseudonarcissus, he felt strongly that there was a morally derived “right place” and a “wrong place” for the vulgarity of hybrid daffodils – and you better not mix them up:
“The right place for garden daffodils is in our gardens, in our houses brightening up our rooms, and even on roadside verges in built up areas. They should be restricted to grow inside the 30mph zones of built up areas and if I ruled the world the daffodil police would be out there digging them up from our country roadsides.”
Which is why voters should always find out if their policy makers are relying on ideologues as experts, however impressive their credentials.
Speaking of ideology
The third article was written last March by noted author and lecturer Benjamin Vogt, and titled “On Daffodils, Climate Change, and Colonization”. After reading it, one comes away unclear as to which species Vogt dislikes more: daffodils, or human beings.
In the article, the ecological value of both Galanthus and Narcissus taxa is thoroughly rejected based presumably upon their non-native status, as no studies supporting that assertion are provided (they were asked for later in the article by Vogt).
As I mentioned before, I am having trouble myself finding in-depth studies of same; but conversely, I am not willing to categorically state in the absence of those studies that they have great value, or that they don’t, as the ecological value of any species is not limited to its attractiveness to pollinators.
This article was the most disturbing of the three, though not for the reasons the author attributes to his critics in order to effortlessly silence them (i.e. the desire to avoid uncomfortable topics or the inability to think outside a comfort zone – we’re quite happy to do that at GardenRant).
Instead, because it reduced and corrupted the complex but beautiful reasons for planting a daffodil by humans for humans into an expression of ‘human supremacy’ tainted with the ever-broadening brush of ‘colonialization’.
Other talking points such as racism, sexism, capitalism, privilege, Western civilization, – well, they’re all wrapped up in that daffodil apparently. But, says Vogt contemptuously, let’s not discuss that added layer (that he just brought up) even if we “need a deep, deep rethink”. Instead let’s “just stick to pretty flowers and [those] for whom those flowers are pretty”. You know, simpletons.
Sometimes it really is simple.
The daffodil is not sacrosanct, and its use or overuse in design is worthy of discussion, surely. There are areas in my own garden where certain bulbs have perennialized too well and a strong hand must be employed to recapture the delicacy I’d originally envisioned.
But a defense of daffodils in design is not why I felt called to resurrect these articles for discussion here. Rather it is in defense of being human, and of cultural traditions and joys for which we should not be ashamed. For all of our many faults as a species, our best and kindest moments may very well be embodied in the planting of a daffodil.
That may be as innocent as children playing in the woods, or as mysterious as a stranger taking a moment to plant a bulb in an unexpected space to connect with another stranger on a profoundly human level. When gardeners brighten the lives of people they don’t know, and whose motivations, character, background, ‘privilege,’ and knowledge they cannot presume to assume, the world is a better place.
So let us call them pretty and revel in our joy of them, because they are also something more. They are hope. They are remembrance. They are joy. – MW
Gathering daffodils and the stories that accompany each one with Brent Heath of Brent and Becky’s Daffodils.
M.,
How you could write such an article without spittle, and Not-Safe-For-Family-Publication curses, is beyond me. You are a civil observer of the scene. I suppose the authors you cite will next turn to essays on kicking puppies and taunting orphans.
Of course, everyone is entitled to their likes and dislikes, including adherence to notions of native plant ideologies. So, they are free to lecture us about such things. And, I am free to ignore or mock them. But, seeing as how this was your (very polite) rant and not mine, I shall refrain from adding further Amens (or cuss words).
J.
I am certainly trying to be civil John. No good comes of rage. – MW
As an unabashed simpleton daffodil lover, thank you for this write! On spring road trips to previously settled, now overgrown wild areas in the Midwest, the discovery of daffodils as the only remaining sign of human habitation has always delighted me. To plant daffodils is indeed a hopeful act.
I’m happy to hear that the odd clump here and there is not ‘pointless’ in your estimation! Thank you. – MW
Interesting argument but I need the color at the end of winter!
In the South, we’d deal with the 3 authors by looking at them with pity and saying gently, “Bless their hearts”, and thus be done with such twaddle.
Wonderful
Many of us do. The claytonia, sanguinaria and mertensia are just beginning to emerge, and that color is welcome too, but there is nothing quite as full on as a daff. – MW
From reading what Marianne had to say, I think she agrees that we all do!
I take great pleasure in seeing daffodils, although here in Miami I only see them in the supermarket. They don’t tolerate our heat, like many of us! My father was Welsh and the flower of Wales is the daffodil even though it is not native there. They bloom around the patron saint’s day on March 1, St David’s Day.
So don’t bad-mouth the daffodil – cenhinen pedr in Welsh.
A wild species of daffodil ( Narcissus pseudonarcissus) is native to the UK, including Wales. (and I do grow it in Wales too.)
Before we had many daffodils here, I would often buy a small bunch of daffodils at the supermarket to cheer me, and so often they were from Cornwall. I wonder if there is an export business for Welsh daffodils? – MW
I think Tête-à-tête was of Cornish origin-Garden Masterclass had a program on the Alec Gray. & I was amazed at how many beloved varieties came from there.
I’m a card carrying got the T-shirt native plant nerd, but I’ll never stop loving or planting daffodils.
Cornwall is the place which had the great selling tradition. I think Wales just let fields fill with them.
Daffodils make me happy. I need happy!
We all do. – MW
only in Garden Rant would I find that there are curmudgeons out there dissing one of the favorite flowers of us plebians. Just when the long gloomy rainy gray Kentucky winter can’t seem to quit, there they are in all their yellow, white, and hints of peach and red, glory. And better yet they thrive, they spread, they just get better every spring. Let the Native Plant Puritan Zealots decry simple pleasures –the rest of us know better.
Puritanism was never fun, eh? It is odd we should at once condemn the crusades of the past, and yet replicate them wearing different costumes. – MW
Great comments on a tough topic. Your main point that we should treasure the human intent to provide joy should be appreciated, not disparaged for ideological inanities – which are currently doing so much to collapse our current world. Self-righteous cruelty – even when well-intentioned (maybe especially then – like generous compassion are both part of essential human character. Better to water the seeds of compasion whenever we can . . . or cruelty and indifference to others we share this planet with will win.
Very well said. – MW
LONG LIVE DAFFODILS!!!
Hear, hear Marianna! I so enjoy seeing the daffodils in the spring and especially when they are in a vacant lot or farm. They are the reminders of lives spent there and the joy they felt in planting and seeing daffodils. That’s ok in my book.
Just finished your Rant about daffodils. Thank you. I am a bit of an old lady gardener, from northern Illinois, a strong native plant advocate though recognizing the complexities that surround them. Years ago I got rid of all the turfgrass and turned my small suburban front yard into a shrub garden. Then in cold October I dug four trenches among them and filled them with White Flower Farms’ “The Works”, 100 plus daffodil bulbs of a wide variety so that I have those sweeps of flowers the whole month of April. The bouquet I brought into the house yesterday makes me smile every time I see it, as I hope those passing on the sidewalk smile, too.
As for pollen and nectar, other hybrids provide them, too. I grow a strip of “Cut and Come Again” zinnias, which have lots of insect activity. So it’s complicated. Nuanced. Always room for learning.
And don’t be so hard on Benjamin!
As you express so well, it’s nuanced out there! These are complex systems. I am happy that you find so much joy in both your daffodils, and in the native garden you tend.
In terms of discussing ideas and the writers that offer them: It is always tricky to respond to an idea or a concept with which one disagrees, because we are not arguing with robots but with human beings, and most of us do not wish to hurt the feelings of another. It is why many choose to ignore rather than engage because we’ve forgotten how to have those discussions. I have tried to keep my words clear and express my thoughts, but, mea culpa, am not above returning a contemptuous tone with that of my own.
Thank you for the thoughtful comment and for adding “The Works” to your neighbor’s lives in April! – MW
I almost deleted your email juat now because I was in a hurry to get through the day (to get out in the rain to do some raking). I’m now glad I didn’t! I will now share your thoughtful piece with fellow “master gardeners” here in Western Massachusetts. Indeed every daffodil, and probably every tulip has a story surging from its bulb every spring. Forty years ago I bought some rugged land, and before I could start on siting and building the house, I planted daffodils as prayers of hope. Tulips too, but rodents mostly devoured them over time. The daffodils remain as sentinels of my eco-yearnings. They are in odd places now in relationship to the log house, but that makes their original stories all the more compelling and memorable. I am a beekeeper, one who primarily plants natives for my foreign honey bees and native pollinators as well, but who also knows every tree, shrub, flower planted has an embedded love-story. Thank you, and I won’t ever be quick to hit the delete key. Blessings to all
Thanks for not deleting – though I feel your inbox pain! I am guilty of same. – MW
Excellent and brilliantly written rant, Marianne.
I was recently thinking about the vinca which has spread for many many yards at Veddw, and how it reminds me of the cottager who no doubt planted one pot of it as a treat. Their gift to the garden and their memorial. Why do we despise and discount human pleasure and beauty so readily now? Because we don’t pollinate??
I don’t know Anne. We have gone from one extreme to the other, and it is not a good thing. Every time I come across a little artifact of human activity at Oldmeadow, I am connected in stewardship with those who came before. It always makes me smile. Even the 100 year midden at the back of our last house filled with bits and pieces (because there was no municipal landfill) interested me. One, because I know we are better (not best, but better) in our habits now; and two, because it was a cross section of life in my 100 year old house. But that perhaps is the archaeologist coming out in me from too long ago. – MW
I have the same situation with my 200 yr. old house and land. We had our red pines thinned about 35 years ago. The next year I saw yellow in the woods and thought someone had left trash out there. When I got close I could see the yellow was daffodils! The red pines had been planted 40-50 years before – the daffies sat there waiting till there was enough sun to bloom again. It was a testament to a plant’s ability to adapt and respond. There were daylilies out there, also. Someone must have wanted something pretty to look at from the kitchen window. I have daffodils, crocus, snowdrops, winter aconite, glory of the snow, etc. People slow down as they pass our house to see the flowers. If I can give a moment of joy or awe or simply something different to look at each spring, then I’ll keep planting bulbs. I guess maybe that’s plebian?
The prospect of daffodils in spring helps me to survive the winter. I couldn’t do without them in the garden and along the woodland trails that lead through Glen Villa Art Garden.
Your article was spot on. Some plants we include for their beauty alone. Daffodils offer that as well as the touch of human history.
“For all of our many faults as a species, our best and kindest moments may very well be embodied in the planting of a daffodil.” Yes!!! Well said.
It’s beyond me how someone could hate on a daffodil. I love natives and am planting lots of them, but my new-to-me circa 1901 house came with loads, loads, and more loads of daffodils. Some are no longer blooming because they’re over-crowded. Never-the-less, were these daffies planted by the former owner who was also a gardener? She lived in this house for over 40 years, and died at the age of 96. Or were they planted by the owners before her? I look at them, and they give me a connection with the former owner(s). They will stay.
Finally, has anyone thought to contact Wordworth’s decedents regarding his poem, “I wander lonely as a cloud?” Surely, his great grandchildren need to be informed about the worthlessness of daffodils and therefore his poem should be removed from books to prevent future generations from planting them.. (Full disclosure: I was forced by my 6th grade English teacher to memorize this poem. It didn’t go well..)
A friend recited that poem to me today. She was having her own moment with daffodils, like Wordsworth. I suppose it is ironic that it is not one of my favorites ( :)), I prefer Robert Frost — his ‘The Tuft of Flowers’ could just as easily be written about a tuft of daffodil foliage spared the grass scythe – linking two human beings together for just a moment. Thank you so much for your comment and for remembering the woman who spent four decades loving those daffodils. – MW
The beauty is why we live the daffodils. Just when we despair of ever seeing the sun and light of-spring the daffodils burst out with their pristine yellow trumpets!
It’s hard to see what harm they do.
Thanks for saying all the good of daffodils!
The good of daffodils and the humans that plant them. Thank you Chris. – MW
Thank you, Marianne. Timely and thought stirring. Our bottomland of close to three thousand daffodils in central Kentucky is not a selfish indulgence. It has had the unintended consequence of becoming an ephemeral community center for friends and neighbors who visit, pick bouquets and hang around to catch up on what we missed of one another over the winter. The two-acre field will be left unmown for 6 weeks or so until the foliage goes brown. During this gap each year, I have been introduced to the white-blooming and delicious, native beaked corn salad (Valerianella radiata) that was sparse ten years ago and is now spreading graciously. Ten days ago, three of us were standing in a spot and simultaneously looked down at the first sign of a Virginia bluebell seedling in the field. It seems that daffodils may be providing an ecological helping hand after all. Or maybe not. As I write this, I am looking out the window toward the Salt River reaching flood stage for the second time in six weeks. Emerging daffodils were inundated with four feet of water the last go round. Forecasters are anticipating a possible 100-year flood this week. The daffodils are in full bloom. I’m not saddened that they will be flooded again. The waters will recede and the daffodils will survive. So will the beaked corn beak salad. It’s the one little Virginia bluebell seedling I want to keep my eye on. A field of daffodils and Virginia bluebells might be worth celebrating someday.
And last year it was drought!
I love seeing your photos of this field on Instagram Allen. I am pulling for your bluebell. I have planted so many in my woods and they are now beginning to seed themselves (alongside double jonquils that have been there for at least forty years). Fingers crossed the flood is not too damaging. – MW
“…a defense of daffodils in design is … in defense of being human, and of cultural traditions and joys for which we should not be ashamed. For all of our many faults as a species, our best and kindest moments may very well be embodied in the planting of a daffodil.”
Marianne – that needs to be quoted as one of the kindest things ever said about human beings, especially in these angry times. The daffodils and you – both messengers of love and kindness. Thank you so much for this masterful, loving rant. Makes me even happier to see all my daffodils now.
Thank you very much Evelyn. Enjoy your daffodils! -MW
Well, now, that’s just silly. 🙂 Daffodils are my favorite bulb. They save me from winter sadness, their joyful, and I will always plant them.
On top of being in agreement with all that everyone has already said, did you know that daffodil bulbs were the original source of galantamine which is a primary new treatment for Alzheimer’s disease? Here are some facts:
Daffodil bulbs contain galantamine, a compound that was originally isolated from them and is now synthesized, and is used in the treatment of Alzheimer’s disease.
Here’s a more detailed explanation:
Galantamine and Daffodils:
Galantamine, a medication used to treat Alzheimer’s disease, was initially extracted from daffodil bulbs (specifically, the Narcissus genus).
Alzheimer’s Disease Treatment:
Galantamine works by inhibiting an enzyme called acetylcholinesterase, which helps to increase the levels of acetylcholine, a neurotransmitter that plays a crucial role in memory and learning.
Synthesis:
While galantamine was originally derived from daffodil bulbs, it is now primarily synthesized in laboratories.
Other Alkaloids:
Daffodils also contain other alkaloids, such as lycorine, which contribute to their toxicity and make them unpalatable to animals.
Narcissus:
The scientific name for daffodils is Narcissus, and galantamine is one of the most studied alkaloids from the Amaryllidaceae family, which includes daffodils.
https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/12137632/
I wasn’t aware of this research at all. Thank you Eileen. – MW
Well done!!
My husband buys daffodil bulbs every year because they bring him joy, (I have finally pointed ut to him that we have enough as they will multiply.) They are not a symbol of human supremacy and they are not native. But we like them. Providing joy is not a bad thing. People sometimes attribute such ill intent to such simple things. There are lots of examples of human supremacy but I never thought of daffodils as being one of them.
The daffodils are an annual reminder that winter won’t last forever, even when they are laid flat by a few inches of late season wet snow. Fortunately, they pop back up when the snow melts. And most of all, the danged deer don’t eat them! I can’t say the same for many of the native plants I’ve tried to grow only to have them disappear like the wind. I’ll keep my dad’s, thank you very much.
Be still my heart! Can’t even begin to imagine my garden without the pleasure of daffodils in many varieties. Large, small, simple, flashy, fluffy, fragrant and not, in varying shades of yellow, gold, cream, etc. JOY!! Thank you, Marianne.
Thank you for a great article. What you wrote about the girls planting daffodils was pure poetry, reminiscent of Robert Lewis Stevenson’s poem “To Any Reader” the last stanza: “For long ago, the truth to say, He has grown up and gone away, And it is but a child of air, That lingers in the garden there.” And I wouldn’t be surprised if there weren’t some daffodils to document this child’s garden-time as well. Daffodils are so tenacious it should be said: the humble daffodil will inherit the earth.
Imagine being the sort of person who can find something to bitch about in a lovely daffodil. What miserable folks, and the world is full of them. Fortunately, it’s also full of daffodils.
Here here!
Wonderful and thought provoking article, Marianne! I’ve never thought of daffodils as controversial, but I should have known better! Any beautiful plant that can grow and multiply for decades, even centuries, without any human intervention, except for the initial planting—(daffodils, peonies, iris, daylilies, and Hellebores all come to mind) is bound to generate some degree of disdain simply because they are so common. But their ability to survive and connect generations either on purpose by being shared or passed along to loved ones or simply by being there, is worthy of respect and honor. Thank you for defending one of my all time favorite flowers that never ceases to bring joy at this time of year.
I certainly echo many of these comments! For someone to write an article hating on daffodils – seriously?!! Not someone I would want to hang with!
I have planted thousands on the berm in front of my house and I hope they bring a smile to the commuters as they whiz by my house to and from work each day. Daffodils are like puppies – who doesn’t smile when they see either one!!
I wish people would plant a clump of daffodils to memorialize a traffic death instead of all the other unnatural things they leave to decay and become roadside trash. This just shows our increasing intolerance for anything that does not follow one’s own beliefs.
This was a pleasure to read. Thank you for synthesizing the research and for having such a clear voice.
Thanks! It’s always interesting to get other viewpoints. I have moved daffodils and lillies (came with the house) to around the mail box post where there is a lot of foot traffic and dogs visiting. They are very tough and can stand up to a lot of abuse and neglect. I am gradually moving to more edible landscaping and natives. I don’t see anything wrong with having a mixture of natives and non-natives. I don’t use chemicals on my clover/grass/weed mix lawn, although I do dig up dandelions and chickweed in the front yard to keep the neighbors happy. (They taste pretty good in spring. I don’t care for creeping charlie. Purslane and plantain is ok.) I’m working on planting more clover because it seems to help minimize the creeping charlie. I don’t worry about the back and side yard. I just cut the grass regularly at the highest lawn mower height due to city regulations. (We have one male Karen next door who is always looking for something to complain about. We get along with everyone else. Babysitting their dogs and chickens. The yard was pretty junky when we moved in.) Birds, toads, deer, squirrels, hawks, chipmunks, geese, raccoons, coyotes, and other animals seem pretty happy in my yard. The birds come in flocks to eat in my lawn and garden where I let select plants go to seed. They can be pretty funny to watch.
Daffodils bring me such joy after a long Seattle winter. The song “Daffodils” is one of the songs I remember from kindergarten…I still sing it enthusiastically every spring and taught it to my grandson. I adopted a sweet chihuahua last fall and named her Daffodil (Daffy).
My wife and I literally threw old daffodil bulbs into our steep woods here in Indiana 40 years ago and I planted them where they lay. Today (literally), we are admiring the splashes of color that are brightening the woods before the trees leaf out and the forest come back in all its glory.
When we purchased a 40 acre plot in Michigan in 2006, it was no longer a farm, as it lacked the house and barn that had graced it for almost 100 years. We were pleasantly surprised when the daffodils came up in the middle of the field and at the edge of the woods. People had lived here! And we were around to enjoy their work (besides the 7 apple trees I suspect they also planted). Daffodils are “proof of life” and that others existed. (Now the giant Lilac bush that is absolutely gorgeous in the spring is another story.)
Since we are 350 miles apart in terms of land, we see our daffodils now in Indiana, and not until the beginning of May in northern lower Michigan. We enjoy the colors no matter where. And this year we will see how many of the 100 bulbs we planted last fall will pop up after a nasty 290″ snowfall winter. Others be hanged for their (expert?) opinions.
Well hanging is a bit harsh, but a good discussion won’t hurt anyone. 🙂 Thank you David and I am sure that those who came before you on that property hoped that someone would appreciate these many joys as much as you do. – MW
Daffodils are what started me on gardening. Our older house had lots of them, and each spring I was out crawling around looking for their little green noses poking through the grass. Screeching at the kids as we played not to step on them. Never can have too many.
Hear, Hear, Marianne! The busybodies can go away and leave daffodil lovers, like myself, in peace! Let us not let “cancel-culture”, to use a modern term, extend further than the garden gate!
Brings back memories of my first instance of rude behavior by native-plant purists. The Takoma Hort Club sells bulbs and also special-orders some to donate to nonprofits. So the Friends of Sligo Creek asked us to order daffs for them, which we did, and when it came time to deliver them to the group we were told they were unacceptable because they’re not native. No “thank-you anyway” or “I’m sorry we’ve changed our minds” or anything. Just insulted and alienated a whole garden club. This was back in 2004 or so and we were shocked!
Blindly adoring my daffs outside right now…thanks for sharing all this interesting conflict! I had no idea what a plebeian I was and will no doubt continue to be. As always, you remain well-written and sharp-witted. Will look forward to your next Rant on the horticulture culture wars.
Over sixty years ago as a young child living in a rented farmhouse, there was a field directly across from our front yard. In it was a crumbling stone foundation of a nearly vanished old house and a clump of double daffodils next to it. There was also a bull kept in that field, and I pondered for several days the odds I could make it to those flowers and pick one before I was charged by the bull (we had no daffodils at our house). I guess my calculations were pretty good for a little kid because I made to the daffodils, picked several, and ran like mad to the fence and climbed back over before the bull even got up a head of steam. I can still see those stones, daffodils and bull in my mind’s eye, and they are a happy memory. I still wonder who planted them so many years before.
Here’s my post about a nativist coming to accept her daffs. https://gardenrant.com/2023/04/surprise-defenses-of-non-native-daffodils.html
Ah, there is one very important and happy outcome of these folks’ ‘hatred’ aimed at daffodils! They are taking that unbridled hate out on lovelies and not another human being! Certainly anyone(s) with that much hate in their heart could be a real threat to plebians and others!
Last spring in an effort to free some of my perennials from the daffodil march along my 175′ bed I was able to package 37, 1# bags of bulbs for the Richmond Horticultural Association’s Fall Plant Sale at Lewis Ginter Botanical Gardens. They sold out in 1/2 hr. This Spring I see that I had only made a small dent in the strings of them! About as close as you can get to hands free gardening.
Loved this Rant and all the comments. Thanks Maryann
Beautifully written—thank you for this heartfelt defense of daffodils and the deeper meaning they can hold. It’s refreshing to be reminded that simple beauty and joy are worth celebrating, without apology.
Up here in Labrador the daffodils are still under a foot of snow, but we’re all looking forward to seeing them! When my backyard has a full bed of Tete-a-Tete, scillas and white-flowered pulmonaria I’ll know that warmer days are coming.
I can’t let the Benjamin Vogt article pass without noting that I read his book Sleep.Creep, Leap and while his descriptions of flowers are lovely, he really doesn’t like people. (He says so himself, and proves it several times. The very presence of his neighbours seems to annoy him.)
Hi Marianne,
I tend to sympathize with your perspective, as one who has planted thousands of daffodils on our lot. In our case, it was precisely because they were not wildlife-friendly, in the sense that neither deer nor rodents will consume them. I added colchicum for the same reason, and many alliums. Those same locations, however, will feature native and “regionally approximately native” penstemons and agastache, and a host of non-natives specifically chosen for offering nectar, pollen, leaves, or stems for the likes of four species of hummingbirds, a smattering of butterfly and moth species, and innumerable taxa of hymenopterans, represented by everything from solitary bees to leafcutter bees. Advocates for native plant gardening have good evidence supporting their positions (even is they do get a bit strident from time to time). Their perspective is one with which I often agree, but in the end, gardens are created by and intended for humans, and what brings each of us joy or peace or consolation is dictated by our own personal circumstances. All in all, we need to abandon absolutism and just cut one another a little slack. And with that in mind, I give Benjamin Vogt a bit more credit; the concluding paragraph of his piece notes that the bone he wishes to pick is with those claiming that things like daffodils are beneficial to wildlife (and anecdotal evidence and long observation suggest he is largely correct). And though narcissus is not for him, he even thanks us for growing daffodils instead of lawn. To which I say, you’re welcome…
Adding to the stories of gardening in plots with history and Daffodils . . .
Our house is more than 100 years old as are many of the trees and Daffodil plantings here. The Daffodils still mark where trees used to be. There are ghost circles of daffs which once surrounded trees which fell ages ago.
Daffodils are so hardy that they, (and their progeny), serve as bridges to the past marking old borders and planting schemes.
What a lovely tribute to a flower that often gets overlooked! Your words brought out the quiet charm of daffodils and made me see them in a whole new light.