It's become a rite of spring time, the day that the children and I load up baskets and tromp to the woods to what we call the "daffodil meadow".
I can just barely see the yellow from our house.
There's an old crumbling ruin of a cottage, and in front, loads of old, old, daffodils.
They are very small, delicate flowers. It takes a while to collect a nice amount.
I just love this old place!
Look closely and you'll see a bit of old flowery wallpaper.
I wonder if that was the kitchen.
Snow last weekend, and now, it feels like spring. Mother Nature likes to keep us on our toes!
