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You’ve likely just read my column about querying my good friend, a Southerner-turned-Yankee, who declined politely to attempt an answer to my query about the long-ranging effect of the weather on the way we grow our show daffodils.
Waking up early has its own routine. Being hungry, since I don’t eat anything after the supper dessert, makes me cherish Vicki’s set pattern of two half-cups of hot coffee, ready when I get to my armchair in the living room, with a dish of bananas ready, once I’ve finished my coffee.
Vicki McKay, my devoted caregiver and dearest and most reliable friend, came to us just before Christmas of 2016. She called and said, “I’m weary of the job I have now and have just decided I am going into a people-oriented type of caregiving.
This, the last of the columns about our delightful and somewhat unexpected attendance at the 2018 American Daffodil Society Convention, after I’d missed Sacramento last year and figured it would be the rare one I’d get to go to, fills two days, but it could have been more.
In our ADS convention diary, Saturday was an even busier day than Friday. It began promptly at 9 a.m. with a discussion with pictures by Frank Veul from the Netherlands. Frank is a special friend from the New Zealand trip, and we’ve connected at every convention.