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
— William Wordsworth
The trees are still bare, the grass is still brown, but the winter is officially over and the signs of spring have appeared. These, the year’s first blossoms, appeared “all at once,” bursting out of the cold, hard earth of the Brooklyn Botanic Garden.