It’s that time of year again when my favorite flower abounds. These I found dressing up the weeds around them–symbols of new life, of hope and damn if they ain’t pretty. The jocund perennials always make me feel optimistic, Heck, they should be the national flower–we need some optimism now.
Once again, as I do every year around this time, I pay homage to the yellow flower that epitomizes the journey with words from the poet William Wordsworth.

   I wandered lonely as a cloud  
  That floats on high o’er vales and hills
  When all at once I saw a crowd
   A host of golden daffodils.

Anticipatorily expectant of what lies around the corner, some souls hedge and dread what is yet to come. On the other hand, those daggone daffodils remind me that I can choose the weeds or the flowers. I like the daffodils.

    For oft when on my couch I lie
    In vacant or in pensive mood
    They flash upon that inward eye
    Which is the bliss of solitude
    And then my heart with pleasure fills
    And dances with the daffodils     (Thank you Mr. Wordsworth)

The difference between haters and lovers–daffodil appreciation?

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