The only drawback to heading off for Salt Lake City tomorrow to attend the World Horror Convention is the timing of it—by leaving home during the last weekend in March, I’ll miss the biggest explosion of daffodils our garden gets. Oh, we’ll have blooms through mid-May, since over the years we’ve planted many different types of daffodils, so it isn’t as if I’m losing out on the season completely, but the difference between your average March 27 and April 1 is amazing.

As you can see, the Dutch Masters (what used to be called King Alfreds) just started to pop today, joining the Tete-a-Tetes that began to bloom a week and a half ago. I counted the blooms this afternoon, as I do from time to time, and we had 220 daffodils brightening up the acreage today. We’ll likely have an increase of at least another 500 over those few days.

I’ll miss seeing the daily, sometimes hourly, changes to the landscape that—forget the calendar—are the true sign that Spring is here. Gardeners will understand. But for the chance to attend another Stoker banquet as a nervous nominee … well … I guess the daffodils will just have to take care of themselves until I get back.