A host of golden daffodils

‘I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high over vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils’

When I read this in our 7th grade English class, I had never seen daffodils. When I closed my eyes to imagine what Wordsworth must have been referring to when he wrote this, I was immediately transported to the rolling hills of Nathiagali that were covered by fields of white daises swaying with the cool summer breeze.

When I eventually did see an actual daffodil, I realized, though beautiful in its own right, it looked nothing like the daisies I would imagine.

To this day, however, this poem takes me back into time to the endless summers afternoons I spent with my siblings running through daisy fields covering the green hillls of Nathiagali.

Nathia was, and remains to be, my most favorite place in the world. It takes me back to days of innocence, when simple things such as making a daisy garland and racing to be the first to put around Mummy’s neck brought unmatched joy. When we would fight over who would get to hold Abba’s hand while trekking along the pipeline from Nathia to Doongagali. I remember Mummy would always keep a bread loaf with her, feeding the monkeys bread crumbs on the way and making jokes about how my youngest brother was actually a member of the monkey pack who she had pitied and adopted, much to his chagrin. I think he secretly believed it though!

The image of daisies in the blog’s header is an ode to summers at Nathia; good times with the people I love the most.

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