Days of Whine and Daffodils

We saw a couple of roses in bloom yesterday, so we could have called this post "Days of whine and roses," but it would not yet be strictly accurate. The daffodils on the other hand are everywhere! My mother loved Wordsworth's poem on daffodils, and here it is, in case you haven't read it lately.

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

Now, as a child and for most of my adult life, I have assumed that this was an unusual experience that the  poet was recalling. Now I realize that if it was unusual for him he must have spent most of every springtime wandering about with his eyes shut.  There are daffodils everywhere.  They nod their golden heads at you as you drive through the countryside. In some areas you can imagine you are daffodil royalty, with thousands and tens of thousands lining the roads in broad swathes, waving at you as you pass. In the suburbs they are only slightly more sparse, while in the cities you will see them massed in formal garden beds, but also persevering through weeds and litter wherever there is some earth for them to grow in. A few days ago Richard and I were walking down the road a block or two away from our flat, and passed a tiny yard which someone clearly used to love, but which is sorely neglected now. The spring weather has awoken all the weeds, but also the daffodils, and their heads were dancing happily in the breeze. I asked Richard if he wouldn't like to live in that flat, and he thoughtfully said, "Yes, I suppose we could manage a yard that size, even on our mission." He knew I had not the least interest in the flat itself, but that little yard needed rescuing. We are not planning on moving (that being not exactly up to us, anyway) but we have filled the kitchen windowsill with parsley, cilantro, basil and lettuce plants, and that substitutes, just a little, for a garden. 

 Now for a spot of whining. Richard is in the habit of, when he sees a piece of litter, picking it up and putting it in the nearest trashcan. I help with this, but he is the prime mover. (I, on the other hand, if I see an offending weed, bend down and pull it out). Often, however the litter here is overwhelming. It may be the wind, it may be the seagulls or wild animals, or it may be that people just don't care; but while it is easy to pick up two or three pieces of litter when one is out on a walk, the sight of hundreds of tossed away items is upsetting, but also overwhelming, so one ends up doing nothing. 

And while I am whining, I do not like our kitchen taps. They look very modern and streamlined, and are a pain to turn on and off, resulting in far too many broken nails. I guess that many a landlord arranges furnishings and fittings in their properties to look neat and attractive, with little regard for their actual ease of use and the tenants' comfort. Our washing machine is "built-in" so one opens a kitchen cupboard door in order to access it. It looks very neat and tidy, but the counter-top overhangs the little drawer where one places the soap, so it is exceedingly difficult to add soap without the edge of the counter getting involved and messy. 

When you walk into our kitchen you see lots of cupboard doors and you think, "ah! lots of storage space" And then you investigate. One door opens onto the fridge and one onto the freezer - both miniature in size but surprisingly adequate. One cupboard door covers the extractor fan. Another hides the hot water heater.  The cupboard under the sink is filled with assorted recycling bins - no room for anything else. Another door opens onto the miniature dishwasher, which, while undersized, is thoroughly worth having. The remaining few doors open onto actual, usable spaces where dishes, utensils and groceries can be stored.  We have put a bookshelf into the "eating" end of the kitchen, so as to have somewhere to store pots and pans, a large bowl, and a few appliances. Did I already write about all this? It feels familiar. Anyway, the kitchen is an interesting study in compactness. Everything in the flat is pretty compact, except for the sofa, which is too deep (designed for giants with super-long legs) and the bathtub, which, while a trifle narrow, is just the right length for stretching out in. The British have certainly mastered the art of bathtub design.