I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
… wrote William Wordsworth. I can’t say whether he then bent down, snipped off half a dozen stems and took them home so that they would look nice on the mantelpiece.
This Spring so far I have stopped and challenged two people for picking themselves a bunch daffodils from apparently public spaces. One, a young woman in Guildford; another, a guy with a southern African accent here in Aylesbury. Both initially seemed puzzled that anyone was interfering with their activities. And then came familiar justifications. I was just visiting my nan, explained she, and thought she would like these; it’s not like they belong to anybody; and look, it’s not like I’m picking all of these (she waves an expansive arm to remind me that there are in fact loads of daffodils remaining unpicked). And aha, said he, any land immediately next to the canal is public property so there’s nothing wrong with it; ‘would you (he says rather pitiably, offering the spoils to me) like to have them?” Then – here it comes again – these are only a few: look at all those!
And for the third year running, daffodils that I planted in a roadside space in the neighbourhood have been neatly sliced off, sometimes removed entirely, sometimes just left to rot where they were felled.
We have to resist this anti-social behaviour. Whoever they ‘belong’ to, roadside and pathside spring flowers have the wonderful capacity to cheer everyone who encounters them, and not – in any quantity – to grace the home of a single individual. The thing is, I’m pretty sure from their reactions that both of these people knew that what they were doing was wrong; defensiveness when put on the spot aside, I hope that all concerned, back home later, derive little pleasure from their pettily thieved prizes and think on next time they are tempted to capture a little bit of nature all for themselves.
Some Author forgotten his name sadly was once asked why although he had so many wonderful flowers in his back garden but none in his house replied…with the words to the effect… even though I have wonderful friends scattered about this globe I don’t go and chop s off their heads and place them on my mantelpiece….still cannot remember the author’ name…ps just back from the lake district and wondered where this card came from..:-) I am also part-time musician and singer.