Daffodils are special. I will do a post for them as I do every year, but for now, here’s some with raindrops on them, captured in my local park.



I call them little pieces of sunshine. In my local park they aren’t out yet, but there are loads of them in the Manchester city centre.
From the little garden outside Manchester Cathedral.
These grow in St John’s Gardens. They’re also smaller than normal daffodils. They’re like mini daffodils.
In Castlefield. I could focus either on the daffodils or on the magpie. The magpie wasn’t cooperating anyway, so I chose the daffodils. Damn birds never play along!
It was early spring—probably the ugliest time of the year.
Lucy Maud Montgomery, Anne’s House of Dreams
This quote is wrong. Here’s why:
Wild grasses.
From the same book: No sign of life was visible, save a big black crow winging his solitary way across a leaden field.
The crow wasn’t exactly co-operating with me when I took this.
Remnant from days of autumn.
A lone daffodil.
It’s not often that I argue with LM Montgomery–not on descriptions at least (there’s plenty in her books that I have problems with, mostly concerning abusive and narcissistic caregivers but that’s a topic for another day). But, as they say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
At least I hope so, it’s certainly looking that way. It is a bit too early–these pictures were taken on the same day as the Peaky Blinders sets ones of the previous post, so the penultimate day in February. They’re all from St John’s Garden, a little park in Central Manchester, on the edge of Castlefield.
Daffodils!
See that crow in the tree? (It seems to be my thing, birds in trees.) It was cawing its head off, but what was funny was that it sounded hoarse, as if it had a sore throat. I can’t describe it any other way. People were looking at it and laughing.
Pandemic or not, nature does her thing.
Taken with my smartphone on a once-a-day allowed walk.