Hosts of golden daffodils

I’ve struggled to put this piece together. Not because it’s in some way complex, demanding to write, or over-long. None of these. My struggle is about whether one should celebrate something so simple and pleasure-giving as my subject here, at a time when the world is being torn apart by conflict and war.

After much wrangling with my conscience, I have decided to go ahead.

The fact is that Spring 2026 has brought the most stunning display of daffodils to Nithsdale in Dumfries and Galloway, south west Scotland, where I live. I’ve noticed that these bumper years occur in cycles. This one is as good as any I can remember.

The deep yellows are stunning. The volume of blooms is unprecedented. The drifts and swathes, resplendent. These nodding delights are found along verges, at the entrances to villages and towns, in parks, on roundabouts, on windowsills, and in gardens of all sizes and styles.

It’s a particular pleasure that the many mixed selections I’ve planted in my own Dumfriesshire garden and adjoining arboretum are having such a wonderful moment. Not forgetting the smaller, wild native variety, pseudo-narcissus. Present long before the garden was created, it has spread in thick drifts and this year is looking exceptional, with its egg yolk trumpets and pale yellow petals.

So here are some pictures and a short video to celebrate this moment, when the profusion of daffodils tells us that Spring has arrived, even as the troubled world keeps on turning.

Join me too, on a walk round a great ring of daffodils that runs between two circles of oak trees.

And finally …

I was told the other day that the Romans brought daffodils to Britain from the Iberian peninsula and planted them in memory of comrades who died in battle. When Wordsworth wrote his famous poem about daffodils in 1804, Britain was actively engaged in war with France, and soon in conflict with Spain. What can one say?