Concurring with Wordsworth

Daffodils could challenge Daisies as The Girls Next Door of the flower world. They know they're not flashy and that people will never ooh and ahh over them as they do with the Roses and the other more exotic beauties out there-- Daffodils have a perfect star of petals few people even notice, thank you--but they're secure in themselves anyway. Consider them a Litmus test of sorts, perhaps: Is their color "just yellow" or “sunshine on a stem"? They are voluptuous and girly with their curved trumpets and rings of frills, but also sturdy and surprisingly strong: How can such slender and nondescript stalks hold up such spectacular blooms? Quicksilver girls, Daffodils' moods change with each flutter of the wind, sometimes shy and reserved, with trumpets bowed and bobbing toward the ground, other times standing tall and in!-your!-face! with their gold stars looking at you head-on, and then wallflowers again, huddled up against each other as if deep in conversation and only half-hoping you're not paying them too much attention. And the scent! Like my favorite “perfume,” Just-Stepped-Out-of-the-Shower-Clean, Daffodils smell indescribably good. Like springtime. Or soil. Fresh air and fresh starts. They simply make me happy.