The extra 100 daffodils bulbs I planted for this spring are already blooming. They look so picturesque against the black fence, they are a flower I just adore. When purchasing the bulbs from a grower I didn't realise that one of the species had a gorgeous bright orange centre.
When I look back at the rate of growth of our plants in four years, in the most challenging environment, I never cease to be amazed. That is the benefit of going with natives, they are survivors and have mutated over centuries to adapt to the environment and the changing global weather patterns.
This is a pot of miniatures that I bought in a plastic pot at the Carterton Daffodil Festival last year and repotted into an old dutch oven with a missing handle.
I don't know the species of this daffodil but assume as it is a single bulb that it got into the pack in error. Love its frills. Fortunately it is one of the bulbs I potted up so I can keep trace of it.
Hubbie just came in with a duck egg from under our akeake hedge, we have had a pair of ducks waddling around, and we have resident cottontail bunnies under the wooden deck. Try to keep telling myself they are Peter Rabbit, Flopsie, Mopsie and whoever - they ate the farmers garden - and I fear they are eating mine. The duck egg will no doubt end up in an omelette.