My beloved daffodils.

‘There are always flowers for those who want to see them.’ Henri Matisse

Constant in my life has been my love for daffodils, and this year, more than I can remember, I need to surround myself with them. All attempts at normality and writing with wild abandon about this little life, came to a numbing halt - a desire to hide away, a silent disbelief at what is happening in the Ukraine - now, at this time, when so many have lost so much through Covid?

I have little to say on the barbaric violation Putin has imposed on the Ukrainian people. I do not understand. Mere weeks ago, young soldiers were on Instagram, falling in love, planning futures and now they draw blood from each other. Murder innocents, babies and the elderly. How their mother’s must feel, children themselves of war and the pointlessness of it all. I don’t know what will happen, I fear for all of us. I keep watching to remind me that this is not a lie. It is unforgivable.

The colours of the Ukraine are yellow and blue.

A week ago, I left the hot African summer to return to London. The air is crisp and night still painted in winter. The sun here is beguiling, tempting at less until you step out of the door and the cold forces you back in to find the trusty Barbour jacket, now twelve years and my signature arrival in London - life stories in this jacket, my armour with pockets deep enough for souvenirs of everyday threads.

Rivers of daffodils in St. James’ park, London

‘Flowers grow out of dark moments.’ Corita Kent

My mother, living in the heart of the Free State, tried to grow spring bulbs - tulips and daffodils. Hyacinths that smells like Fortnum and Mason.. Few lived yet the joy of those days stay close. Never to be picked, just loved for as long was possible.

Mark and Spencer’s sell bunches of daffodils for a pound at the tills. I have mine in a Mason jar on the desk and day by day, the virginal buds breathe out their loveliness and there is happiness, right there. Popping from grassy parks, on the side of the road, in a bit of water on the desk, these frilly ballet dancers make me deeply happy.

‘For me, flowers are happiness.’ Stefano Gabbana.

‘Where flowers bloom, so does hope.’ Ladybird Johnson

There are many different types of daffodils, also known as Narcissus or Jonquil. Symbolic of spring, joy and in some cultures, death. Poems written about them, the national flower of Wales. It’s the muchness, the clumps, the silly yellowness and gaily dancing in the cold air that lightens up the world. Makes me want fairies to join me beside them on the grass.

Bunches of sunshine call my name. I pray for Ukraine.

She wore her yellow sun-bonnet,
She wore her greenest gown;
She turned to the south wind
And curtsied up and down.
She turned to the sunlight
And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbor:
"Winter is dead.”
― A.A. Milne, When We Were Very Young

Tulips for my mother.

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