Not to be confused with Daffodil Hill, the popular tourist destination just a few miles to the east of our home, Daffodil Hell is what our front yard resembled following a visit by a satanic gardening cult (my husband Chris and me) who performed the ritualistic dismemberment of a perfectly good azalea bed and transplanting of what were totally content daffodils previously residing in my Aunt Ann’s yard. Click on the picture for a better view of the horrified husband, post ritual, masking his identity for fear of future attacks by copycat cults. Plus, he was just really, really embarrassed. The cult leader, which would be me, when asked by husband midway through the slaughter, whether the carnage could have been avoided by a tiny bit more planning, replied, “I like to adjust on the fly when I do yard work. Planning takes too much time.” To which husband replied, “Yes, but so does doing the whole thing over again.”
Coming soon: in with new sod, out with ugly red lava rock.