by Jean Goodwin

Created on: April 19, 2008

As a child my father was a pragmatic gardener. His motivation, sometimes to my mother's disappointment, was not to produce swathes of colour or find blooms which filled the air with sweet, delicate fragrances. His motivation, pure and simple, was to grow vegetables for his family to eat. I can remember still the anticipation of the unique sweet flavour of the first new potatoes of the season. He tended his vegetable garden with tender care and despite my Mother's love of sweet peas and roses, we appreciated the tasty product of his efforts.

His one concession was to grow daffodils. Each year after he had prepared the ground for carrots, cabbage and numerous other things so good to eat, he would let me help put new bulbs into the soil that he'd prepared. The flower bed was close to the vegetable patch, between it and the kitchen window - secretly I'm sure he had chosen that particular place because of my Mother's love of flowers. We then watched and waited for the bulbs to burst and push their leaves through the sometimes frozen or snow covered soil - they never disappointed us. The daffodils in our garden were huge, bright yellow trumpets of colour which stood proud and tall amongst a sea of turnip and beetroot tops.

As I recall, and remember I was only a child looking on in awe as my adored father worked tirelessly in the garden, he used to add new bulbs each year. I know that sometimes he split the bulbs but I don't think he dug the whole lot up every year..... the number of flowers certainly multiplied with the seasons.

Eventually, years of being a quarry worker caught up with my Dad and his gardening days were over. We moved to a house with a postage-stamp sized plot where a few roses and a privet hedge were the only things that grew. I think he's had enough gardening, he didn't seems to miss it at all. Many, many years later however, on a visit to Lincolnshire, I saw an advert for bags full of daffodil bulbs and on impulse I bought a sack full of the things, took them home and planted them all over my lawn. It took me hours but it was worth it, each year I again anticipated my favourite flowers making their special journey into my garden to create a sea of yellow to evoke so many happy memories of me and my dad growing daffodils all those years ago.

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