Wordsworth's best-known and arguably most ridiculous poem is "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud," the one about the daffodils. When daffodils are blooming, it is impossible not to think of this ...

My mother phones to tell me it's time for planting; my father has built a bed - nothing fancy, mind you, wooden planks painted yellow. That's nice, I reply, dipping my brights as I slow for a curve.