One of the great expectations and delights of our cottage was the proximity of the fishing pond. Through farm gates and across two sheep fields we made our way to the caravan park at the bottom of the hill. Within sight of the road and yet completely secluded, the pond was, when we arrived, surrounded by daffodils. Each flower was a new variety and many seemed to be jewels floating in the greenery. As we adults wandered along the path around the pond we were overwhelmed by the beauty of one of my favourite flowers. The children were more concerned with the number and size of ripples in the lake and itched to run back and get their rods. We had just arrived though and the adults were more intent on a cup of tea and bed. Fishing would wait until the next day. And they made up for the wait throughout the next two weeks. But the daffodils faded fast so that we were thankful we had taken the time for them.
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