Judy in Daffodil Field, 1948

Every spring on our farm on Clatsop Plains, the daffodils bloomed first, acres and acres of golden yellow. Then, the Easter lilies. So fragrant it made me dizzy with sweetness. Later, that same field  was planted with Marshall strawberries, the biggest, sweetest, reddest berries ever. But they couldn’t tolerate all the rain, so now they’re extinct.

Along with Wes and Jenny and Mom and Dad, I planted my share of those bulbs, topped my share, dug my share, sorted my share, and replanted my share. Often in clouds of dust or squishy mud.

But every spring, it was worth it.



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3 responses to “Daffodils

  1. I just talked with one of your readers. Our mutual friend in NJ. She told me about your book and a little about your friendship…I enjoyed reading more about that, here on your blog.
    I look forward to reading your book, I am always looking for a good read and your book comes highly recommended 🙂

    • judyallen

      Thank you! I look forward to hearing more after you’ve had a chance to read it!

    • judyallen

      I just found your comment! Somehow it slipped through the cracks here. I hope by now you have had a chance to read the book, and would love to hear your reactions. Our mutual friend is a very talented writer in her own right, as you know!

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