A host of golden daffodils - A further post in the YEEHA pages

Something came to fruition in our community here yesterday- a project that was the brainchild of a very talented potter - Fran Maguire.  It was over 2 years in the making and involved a large merry band of volunteers.  It was driven by Fran and another amazing woman, Kate Vavasour.    What I found so inspirational about this project was it involved a whole community to be.  From young school children up to retired people giving their time to make it happen.

Yes it was for a worthwhile cause - the Cancer Society, who can debate Cancer does not touch everyone somehow - but it is the beauty of the project, the vision and the completeness of the whole thing that makes it so wonderful.

Every child at school in Marlborough had the opportunity to make a ceramic daffodil - it would then be fired, put on a stake and planted in the ground in an installation by the Taylor River in time for the Cancer Society Appeal day on 26 August.  There were over 3 500 of them. (I hear Wordsworth in my head - a host of golden daffodils..... .  )

You can buy them if you like - you can also go down to the river and gawp at the magnificence of them - and walk amongst them.  There is not one the same, and - well it spreads some sunshine and just makes you smile - and that for me is the most wonderful thing of all, this vision in a head, brought to life by many, (and in my heart with pleasure fills......get out Wordsworth). spreading joy in a community to uplift all.    And it does. 

Take a deep bow Fran Maguire, Kate Vavasour and your many helpers, what you have done is extraordinary.

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.

          Continuous as the stars that shine
          And twinkle on the milky way,
          They stretched in never-ending line
          Along the margin of a bay:                                  
          Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
          Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

          The waves beside them danced; but they
          Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
          A poet could not but be gay,
          In such a jocund company:
          I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
          What wealth the show to me had brought:

          For oft, when on my couch I lie
          In vacant or in pensive mood,                               
          They flash upon that inward eye
          Which is the bliss of solitude;
          And then my heart with pleasure fills,
          And dances with the daffodils.
                                                            William Wordsworth