I miss you, Granny

My Granny loved her daffodils. Every Easter, the grassy mound her house sat atop erupted into yellow bloom. They were her pride and joy, and woe betide us if our football landed betwixt them...

...so it makes me smile every time I leave the hospital at this time of year to see this bank of daffs. She'd have burst out laughing at the sheer expanse of them...before telling me hers were better ;-)

Anyway, a wee Scots poem:

Spring has sprung,
The crocus drops,
And in my little windae box,
A yellow daffy hings its heid,
Oh Daffy, must you hing yer heid,
Could you no' heid her hing?
Nae bother wid it be tae rhyme,
Yer "heid" and "hing" wi' Spring

(Windae:window, hings:hangs, heid:head, no':not, nae:no, wid:would)