Another Pretty Day

Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful morning. A cool front is pushing through and the wind is up and the air is clean and cool. It's not a crisp morning, but it's beautiful all the same.

It's a morning to work in your flower gardens, if you have any. It amazes me that it's almost October and I spent zero time on any of my flower beds this year.

The last time I mowed I had a lady stop her car in the middle of the road and get out of her car and come over to me to ask if I would share my daffodil bulbs with her. She sees them come up each Spring. I gave her my phone number. She said it was that time of year to dig up the bulbs. I smiled and nodded and went back to mowing. I'm at a loss as to what to do now. It's not like I could tell her no, I'm not sharing. I'd LOVE to share them. The problem is... I've never dug up bulbs to store OR share. I like to call myself a naturalist gardener. That means, when I get the energy to actually plant something, it's staying in the ground forever and I sure hope it likes weeds and grass as neighbors. I don't mulch. I don't weed. I don't replant. What grows, grows naturally without any pruning. This year, I didn't even make an effort to water... anything.

So do I go out and dig some up myself after reading online about what to do with them once they are out of the ground? If she calls or comes by do I give her some sweeping arm action and tell her to go for it? Is there some sort of bulb etiquette? How many should she get? One or two? Or a half dozen or so?

There is a story to the yellow daffodils that are here. I just can't remember what it was. I would like to be able to pass this story on with the bulbs I share. On the East side of the front porch are some very dainty miniature white daffodils. I believe those are decedents of my grandmother's grandmother. I THINK. Again, I have forgotten and I hate, hate, hate this part of getting older. I do know, though... when I leave this place... I will be taking as many bulbs as I can with me.