Lonely as a cloud

When all at once I saw a crowd
A host, of golden daffodils

Our native daffodil Narcissus pseudonarcissus, here flowering close to the coast at Far Arnside. A more delicate, subtle and less blousey plant than the cultivated varieties. This is the species that inspired Wordsworth in the Lake District, not far from here. I have an old book about Arnside that gives the impression they were once common around the village, but now they are somewhat localised, abundant in patches with big gaps in between.

Gus and I walked over the Knott and down through Heathwaite to see how they were getting on. The cold Spring has held them back several weeks, and they are still not at their peak.

This afternoon, we went to Morecambe in search of a car, having given up on the VW garage in Grange. A deal was done. Thank goodness.

For those waiting news of Reggie, I had a close look at him nestled in his box amongst shredded paper. It's still too cool to bring him out of hibernation, but I can report that their were vital signs. No, I didn't do anything sophisticated - I prodded his leg and it twitched. 5 months in a fridge is a long time, and I have had my doubts along the way, but it looks like everything is ok.

Ayear ago was a bit different, a bumblebee bum - not a buzz from one of them so far this year.