This frilly number, photographed last week at The Farm, is the antithesis of what I consider to be the perfect daffodil. My idea of daff excellence is a petite form, with elegant reflexed outer petals and an elongated central corona, simple in design, understated and classy. Just like …. well perhaps not. On a particularly adventurous day, an orange trumpet would be acceptable, apart from that yellow is the only acceptable colour. I am of course talking about Narcissus cyclamineus the cyclamen flowered daffodil. This native of north-western Iberia and its cultivars would make up my own personal “host of goldens”. No flashy interlopers allowed. Or so I thought.
For some reason, and definitely against my better nature, I found myself admiring this decadent specimen. It may have been something to do with the sporadic gaps in the hail-peppering weather, or perhaps it was the teasing sun on its buttercup yellow bloom, or how bravely this solitary flower stood with “last man standing” vigour. Or I may just have been having one of my moments.