It’s official. I’m going trampling daffodils in the wood.
I’ll probably wear wellingtons, which for their shoe size, have greater surface area, I feel.
The idea is to inflict the maximum amount of damage. Obliterating them, ideally.
If I was an explosives expert, I might fashion tiny landmines and watch as I blew them out of the ground to kingdom come.
It’s a form of mulching and would be enormously rewarding, though the sound of controlled explosions would attract unwanted attention so, maybe it’s just as well I’m not an expert juggling with gelignite.
In addition to trampling, which promises an entirely adequate sense of satisfaction, I’m going to take a trowel to dig up the bulbs.
Course, it will have to be done covertly in case someone notices and gets entirely the wrong end of the daffodil stalk.
Nothing wrong with daffodils per se. Goodness, the daffodil is my national flower. I just have problems with the varieties and locations.
The daffodil of woodlands and verges here in Gloucestershire, especially around Dymock and Kempley and Newent, is the wild daffodil Narcissus pseudonarcissus.
It is shorter, more delicate and a paler colour than it’s bright, brash cultivated cousins.
It’s a little reticent; the kind of daffodil that remains in the corner at parties, clutching a drink nervously and only speaking when spoken to. It is most definitely not the tall loud over-effusive specimen lording it over the room in a hawaiian shirt.
But that’s not the kind of daffodil that exists in our local woodland, oh no. The wood itself, like many, was planted hundreds of years ago as a hunting wood. It has a good variety of wildflowers. Then for some reason, the parks and gardens chief at the local borough council decided to do a daffodil planting thing in the village. Workmen planted daffs along some verges and I was appalled when some of them popped up in the wood.
They stick out like proverbial sore thumbs. They are an abomination. I wouldn’t have them in the garden, even, but no doubt some people like them. They are not even typical daffodils. They have stupid swept-back petals and some of them are doubles.
When I asked him how come they were popping up he replied “Well we had some left over so I told the guys to scatter them round in the wood, natural-like.”
The words ‘fuck’ and ‘wit’ spring to mind.
What next? Serried rows of geraniums either side of the path that winds down through the fallen timber? Hanging baskets of orange begonias hanging from the lower limbs of the wayfaring trees?
A nice faux wishing well with a collection of grinning gnome figurines by the dignified remains of one of the largest oaks in the county?
What about a colourful, painted Disney character by the badger sett entrance? Perhaps Mr Incredible flexing his re bright red lycra-clad muscles and holding a tray full of French marigolds – the flower I detest the most on account of smelling of cat pee and their refusal to do the decent thing and keel over and die quickly.
That nightmare vision is all possible if the council guy has his way. I have tried to get him to manage the public areas around the village for wildlife. I told him i’d noticed bee orchids on the very edge of the grass verge near the kerb where the soil was thin and poor. Might be a good idea to get the mower man to leave an un-mown strip about two foot wide by the kerb, I said. You know…let them grow for people to enjoy. As the soil is so poor anyway, the grass won’t grow long if you don’t cut it.
He nodded as though he’d understood, but no. Psycho-mower man just did his own thing. Instead of lines he drove the mower in a series of wild curves like he had been trying to avoid – or maybe, thinking about it, mass murder – a colony of panicking rabbits. In place of the lines, he left psychedelic patterns and the odd random island of longer, rank grass. But the next time he mowed, he’d go straight over the longer grass again and leave a fresh patch unmown. So wildlife, unless it was jolly quick about it, had little opportunity to thrive.
I had another word with Parks and Gardens man.
He laughed. “Oh yes. It’s difficult to get Bert to follow instruction. He likes to do his own thing. He’s quite creative though, don’t you think?”
I wondered vaguely if the threat of orchidectomy might make Bert a little more considerate to orchids but getting back to the alien daffs, it’s time for a little direct action.
I won’t be alone. Lively debates usually ensues when I suggest something new to DT man but on this occasion he extracted wind from sails by agreeing readily and completely with my view.
“Yes. They do jar. They look fine in a park but not in a woodland,” he said.
I don’t think I’ve damaged woodland since i was 13 and carved ‘JR’ and ‘SM’ into a tree but I’m looking forward to indulging in a bit of wanton vandalism- er sorry, make that ‘daffodil cleansing.’
How disappointed the parks and gardens guy will be when he takes his annual inspection of the wood next spring and he finds that all his garish garden flowers have mysteriously perished.
It gladdens my heart just thinking about it.
Boadicea's Chariot 
Now you know how I feel about feral horses, camels, goats and other hard hoofed beasties being allowed to run free in an alien environment!
Good luck… 🙂
agent orange is best, but the environmental consequences would be disastrous. perhaps a weed whacker in the pre-dawn hours?
People have very different ideas on the esthetics of gardens. The idea that there is ggod taste and bad taste is a hang over from the UK class structure and totally inappropriate. Daffodil cultivars can in my opinion be attractive in certain settings and anyway if people want to plant a line of upright daffs next to their gnomes and they gain pleasure from the results, that is fine with me.
As far as the cultivars in the woods, they will die out and the wild daffodils will survive. Nothing to worry about.
Scorched Earth, its the future.
Call in the marines, lay down a few daisy cutters and napalm whatevers left. Once the half life has dropped to non-lethal levels, you will not find a single ‘orrid daff honest. 😉
Pointless if you ask me, but you didn’t, so, if that is your bag, wear it.
Moo people have a perfect right to do that they want with their gardens. These are in woodland and they are not dying out, that is the trouble. They are tough little bastards. They require direct action.
🙂 Bearsy, you are so like my dad.
Yes I do Boadicea!
Agent Orange, CB. Do they sell that in B&Q?
Thanks Ferret but I don’t actually want to dispose of the wood in its entirety. 😉
Zen, it’s a rant. 🙂
OK JanH,
Don’t blame me if the pesky li’l beggars come back next spring.
Go on NUKE em. Whats a few decades of total area denial between friends. 🙂
SO I GATHERED – ENJOY.
To Bearsy!
I WANDER’D 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,
all trampled down by wellington boot,
flattened, flustered, all be mute.
Jan1h – most enjoyable post. I hope Christina finds time to read it!
What an ignoramus you are!
You have shot yourself in the foot, welly and all by showing your so called ‘cultivated orrid daffodil’ which offends you so much.
It is in fact, you ignorant creature, a species narcissus, narcissus poeticus var. recurvus.
for further information to add to you woeful lack of knowledge a species is not man made and occurs naturally somewhere in the world. Whilst it is not a native species to Gloucestershire it is not that out of place in a woodland location in such a climatic zone as that is its natural habitat albeit elsewhere.
May I suggest that as you really do not know what you are doing and that your objections are merely subjective that you leave well alone? They are not yours to destroy and may well bring others a modicum of pleasure.
If you persist I do hope you meet your just deserts.
Had you suggested moving them elsewhere and replanting, at your own expense, with local native species I would applaud, but sheer vandalism for erroneous purposes will come home to roost, mark my words.
Sickening.
That’s the most antidaffodilicidal comment I’ve ever seen … and God knows I’ve seen a few in my time.
“I wondered vaguely if the threat of orchidectomy might make Bert a little more considerate to orchids”
I’m spluttering nuts (my post-work snack) all over the keyboard.
Hee Hee JanH,
Do you want me to adjust the coordinates for one of the ICBMs. I can target Christina for you. You never know 50 megatons might just shift that chip off her shoulder.
It’s a long shot but it just might work. 🙂
Thinking outside the regular parallelogram – surely trampling them won’t do any good anyway? They have finished flowering.
Blimey: a bit extreme, Furry, I think. I get the distinct impression that Christina is not enjoying her forced exile in the boonies, and we are her only hope for a bit of civilised social intercourse. The fact that she has forgotten how to conduct such is just a tad unfortunate. 😉
“Whilst it is not a native species to Gloucestershire it is not that out of place in a woodland location in such a climatic zone as that is its natural habitat albeit elsewhere…” says Christina….
Well I agree with Jan. They shouldn’t be in the UK ‘wild places’ if they don’t belong there.
(I am so relieved to find someone else who doesn’t like the bigger cultivars of daffs sneaking out of the parks and suchlike, into inappropriate places. I thought it was just me and one lone voice I heard on the radio recently)
Nym: I seem to remember a similar issue with Bluebells of the Spanish variety.
Very true, Ara. Particularly as they easily interbreed.
(I know that’s no the correct horticultural term, Christina, please excuse me)
Totally understand your position, janh1. Nobody want foreign invaders messing up natural spaces. Disgraceful, really.
When you are finished with your terminator mission, could you come down to Oz and give us a hand? Here we had a pretty little flower, a gorges little plant called Lantana.(camara)
It now covers an area of approximately 7,617,930 SQ KM and is very hard to eradicate.
Swap your wellingtons for a chainsaw, and your landmines for some nuclear infused dynamite, and in another hundred years or so the job will be done.
Oh, and don’t forget to bring your sunscreen. 🙂
Alternatively we could just bring CO down here. That’ll frighten the little buggers into submission and they will wither and die.
You will be pleased to know that the poets narcisssis as we call it, is native to France. The Auvergne at this period of the year has beautiful meadows full of these attractive flowers. And, there is one in my garden, I just checked the flower and it does indeed look like your photo, though I am still not 100% sure that you haven’t got some uglier cultivar.
Anyway if it turns out that the healthy and vigorous French plant is driving out the weedy English daffodils, one can only rejoice. And as Churchill would have it, it is the destiny of the world that the fitter species drive out the unfit.
It was the “Take those boots off and behave yourself” actually Bearsy.
Dad wasn’t hot on Wordsworth but I AM so thanks 🙂
Woohoo! Excellent PapaG. I almost prefer it. I’m printing that out and sticking it on my chaotic study wall. 🙂
*Magnificent* counter-rant, Christina!
Yes I have shot my foot off good and proper for I selected that daff pic in a rush, only intending it to be representative of the aliens. Obviously I bow in total shameless, grovelling obeisance to your vast gardening knowledge but quite frankly I don’t care what varieties they are because nothing less than the wild daffodil will do! 🙂
Anyway, apart from that small concession, I am unbowed. I deserve some credit for imaginative clearance methods, although I am secretly in awe of Ferret’s “total area denial.”
Brendano I had to read that three times out loud to even pronounce it. Like it though!
Pseu – laughing out loud here. What an appropriate snack!
Hey, nice that someone shares my view. I was shocked that DT man did, to be honest. But he’s very politically incorrect these days though sadly rubbish at explosives.
“hybridise” Pseu? Ooo-er if that’s wrong, I’ll probably get the cane from CO.
Goodness me, no Ferret. Think of the fall-out!
Blimey, Rainer, seven million or so square kilometers? Ferret’s your man.
You know the only time I’ve had a chance to use a chainsaw, my brother refused to let me have a go, on the grounds that it was too heavy. It was a petrol one with a big shoulder strap. He didn’t even let me hold it.
MOO, I bet they look lovely in their natural habitat. No objection to that whatsoever.
Sorry to disappoint but it was just a random pic (Pheasant’s Eye, I seem to recall). No French plants doing anything much to stifle English plants in glorious Glos as far as I know. So je m’excuse mais hard fromage, mon brave.
Intending to see a Brit have a crack at winning the Tour in July. Can’t wait. 🙂
“hybridise”
(I knew really, just teasing Christina.)
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high oe’r vales and hills
When all at once I saw a crowd
Looking at some nutter of a woman stamping through a host of golden daffodils
The native flowers are pure and right,
We Brits quite rightly join to fight
The horrid imports, what a shower
We’ll kick them out and make them cower.
They might well breed and hell break out,
The wall-flowers then will join the rout,
Just purge the lot without delay
Such action may just save the day!
The blue bells are out now…..
I know, and I am planning an outing to take some photographs, Nym.
Darn – I shall miss the bluebells.
When are you coming over, Boadicea?
We leave here 20th May, and are there until the 20th July.
Yes, you will miss the bluebells but bring some good weather with you please. 🙂
I’ll do my best … 🙂
As a matter of curiosity, without cheating and looking it up, anyone here know how to tell a Spanish bluebell from an English one?
Not a clue, Christina…
CO, good evening.
Do the English have real bluebells? I thought you called them harebells down there?
JM, hello!
Harebells and bluebells are two totally differing species.
You rarely see harebells as you know them south of the Yorkshire moors.
Your Scottish harebells are campanula rotundifolia and the English bluebells are hyacinthoides non-scripta.
The joy of accurate latin names rather than common misnomers. Plus if you put the two together you would realise that your harebells are far more delicate than bluebells and actually flower sometime later than bluebells, they are in fact a sub alpine species, whereas the bluebell is most certainly not.
Easy,
Say “Hello”.
If the bluebell says “Ola” its spanish. Seemples. 🙂
Yes, I know the difference between Spanish Bluebells and English Bluebells. 🙂
CO, good morning
Thanks for that. I see that, as usual, we do things differently up here. Personally, I blame Blair and the devolution disaster.
Here’s one of Scotland’s hottest bands performing their Top 20 hit on our equivalent of ‘The Old Grey Whistle Test’. Whaur’s yer Jethro Tull noo?
Janh1, good morning and sorry for trampling all over your excellent narcissitic blog with my campanulations. Fantastic comments and a really enjoyable blog. Not going to pick sides. Anyway, we probably don’t have proper daffodils up here either.
John Mackie
Reference ‘The Old Grey Whistle Test’, I worked at the BBC when this show used to go out and know the origin of the name, any one else?
It’s Jimmy (being so cheerful that keeps me going) Shand.
Greetings OMG oh please delete “some nutter of a woman” and insert “rampant if misguided conservationist”
Thank you.
Hooray Araminta!! Another one for my wall.
Yes the bluebells are just starting here too – good drifts of them in this particular woodland.
Thanks Christina for the bluebell v harebell thing. Bluebells grow from little bulbs – not sure that harebells do but have never pulled one up to inspect… 😉 I do draw the line at some things.
Morning John. Good to see you and no worries. You go ahead. Be my guest and campanulate yourself silly.
Aw I love that tune. Had forgotten all about it. My parents were fans of Jimmy Shand.
Go on then OMG old grey whistle… can’t imagine. Can’t be euphemism. Whispering Bob was too young.
OMG:
“Old Grey Whistle Test’ – would anyone still be whistling the song when they were old and grey…
janh1
Gladly , but the techno tit is running deep within me this morning and I fear I’m not capable but anyone else is welcome to do as you wish on my response.
The TV studios at BBC White City had a legion of men called ‘Engineering Porters’ who used to populate the studios with cameras, dollies, cranes and all the other heavy gear necessary to make programmes and then take them back into storage after. Bob Harris, (Whispering Bob) who fronted the show noticed that if one the porters in particular picked up on a particular ‘set’ in rehearsals, he would start to hum it and this song would invariably do well. The porter in question always wore an old grey suit and cockney slang for a suit is a ‘whistle’ as in ‘whistle and flute’, suit, so if the porter like it, the test had been passed, hence, (altogether now) ‘The old grey whistle test.
The difference in Spanish and English bluebells
the English one bows its head and like woodland
the Spanish one keeps its stalk straight and prefers open areas
If this works these are wild narcissi, plucked by my own hands in an Auvergne meadow and replanted in my garden.
http://www.plantpress.com/wildlife/o864-wilddaffodil.php
we have wild daffodils here in Orléans but they are long finished.
when my elder son was about 6, he is is now 28 and a super geek, he went on a school outing and brought us back a bunch of wild daffodils. Attached to two of the stalks was the bulb, which I carefully planted. They grew and seeded and I now have a little patch of wild daffodils in my garden to remind me of his childhood.
Nice story, madeof.
I’m off to my garden now to check my bluebells. Next week I’m off to visit the bluebell woods near my aunts.
Thanks OMG! That porter should have really gone into talent scouting… he obviously had a good ear for commercial success.
Ah thanks MOO for the image. They look very similar but with swept-back petals. Good to hear your daffodil drift is a reminder of your boy. The best sort of planting 🙂
Look forward to the bluebell pics, then Pseu! 🙂
pseu, you are getting there on the difference, but it is the why that is caused by a taxonomic difference. English bluebells have their flowers in a vertical row above each other in a line up the stem, this creates an imbalance of weight and the flower thus droops to one side. The Spanish flowers are distributed evenly around the stem, the weight is even, therefore they do not droop, they also tend to have more flowers per stem.
Regrettably the two types hybridise freely.
(We’re being taken over again!)
SI have given my bluebells the Spanish Inquisition – and some of them have failed the test.