"And then my heart with pleasure fills....

.....and dances with the daffodils." (William Wordsworth)

When I was a child, my favourite poet was William Wordsworth. He is still among my favourite classical poets, though the books of more contemporary poets such as Jayne Relaford Brown’s “Finding Her Here” rival for space on my shelves.

Wordsworth’s “I wandered lonely as a cloud” was the first poem I ever memorized. I think I was about eight at the time. I still remember all four verses, and they came flooding back to me today as I took Macy for one last walk on the Serpentine Wetlands before returning her to her foster home where her new adoptive mama would be waiting.

As we meandered around the fields, Macy on the long line so she could explore, I suddenly noticed a splash of brilliant yellow. There amidst the old blackberry brambles, the faded reeds of last year, the bog grass and straw and mud, were several bunches of daffodils smiling gaily, spreading their sunshine across an otherwise primarily brown and beige palette.

Whether someone planted the bulbs last fall to delight walkers who come across them by chance on a rainy day, or whether they were buried deep in the soil that built the dikes or were the remnants of an old farmland of long ago, there they stood – straight and tall and beautiful. Such surprises in nature can only bring joy to the melancholy soul.



“And then my heart with pleasure fills/And dances with the daffodils.”