What is the sound of one person blogging?

If one blogs, but nobody knows, does it really exist? Since I as yet have no actual purpose or message for this blog, I have not attempted to recruit readers. For my own enjoyment and procrastination, and in keeping with the spring floral theme, however, I'd like to send one of my favourite poems out into my readerless ether:

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 a sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee;
A poet could not but be gay
In such 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

More than a flower.

Tazetta is an attitude. An exuberant, cheerful, fresh, and delightful herald of spring. It is my favorite flower, a sign that the drear days of wintertime are nearly through.

Where I live, wintertime is yucky. The payoff comes right around my birthday, in February, when the first spring bulbs begin to appear. Spring itself is still weeks away, but the delightful little tazettas poke their starry faces out to cheer me up and remind me that something lovely is just around the corner -- a good lesson to remember year-round.