A Story of Daffodils

A long time ago, maybe not the first spring we lived in this house, but probably in 2008 or 2009, I planted some daffodils outside of our house. They must have been already blooming when I planted them, because I didn’t (and still don’t) know anything about bulbs. I think they were your average, run-of-the mill daffodils, but I don’t know enough about flowers to know exactly what kind they were. I also didn’t (and still don’t) know enough about bulbs to do anything with them, so they died off after their season was done, and I just waited until the next spring to see what, if anything, would become of them. Well, they’re returned every spring, without any intervention whatsoever from me (literally none), and they’re bright, and cheerful, and…small:

If you guessed that the “vase” they are in is a shot glass, you’re correct! For some reason, the flowers seem to smaller and smaller every year. It’s something of a family joke, my miniature daffodils. I don’t know enough about gardening to know why they’re so tiny (soil quality? the fact that I’ve never done a thing with them? lack of space?), but I do know that they’re cute and they make me smile every spring when they reappear. I worry that one year, they’ll be so small, they won’t bloom at all, but they’ve been going strong (if not stunted) for around 15 years now, and I think that’s pretty good for flowers growing in the yard of someone who definitely knows nothing about gardening!

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