Spring has come when the daffodils sound out. They do not peep or shrink but brazenly trumpet to the world whether they are in a single clump or in groups. Wordsworth found them soothing as they danced across his inward eye but I find them challenging and noisy. Yet the smaller version, popular with locals councils, just do not have the same charisma as they sit meekly in their pots and planters.
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