The warning to "beware the ides of March" originated from the assassination of Julius Caesar on March 15 in 44 BCE, but what the heck is (are?) ides anyway?

Ides is an old Roman calendar term used to denote a full moon, so every month had an ides, not just March. (In rare cases, what we call Blue Moons, some months would have had two ides.)

The Romans at first based their calendar at first on the phases of the moon: Kalends started on the new moon, Nones began on the first quarter, and Ides started on the day of the full moon. A lunar year has some drawbacks, though, not least of which is that it doesn't match up evenly with a solar year. So it didn't take long for seasonal events like festivals to be seriously out of whack with the official calendar.

Julius Caesar implemented calendar reform, setting the length of the year at 365 days (plus a leap day every 4 years) and fixing the lengths of the months and setting the ides of March, May, July and October on the 15th and the other months, on the 13th.

In the Christian era, the Julian calendar eventually eas replaced by the Gregorian calendar, in large part to make calculating the date of Easter somewhat simpler. Like Passover, the date of Easter is related to lunar cycles, which is why it jumps around on the calendar so much. Further adding to the confusion is the fact that Eastern Churches and Western Churches calculate Easter differently, so their celebrations only rarely coincide.

In our part of the world, the sudden blossoming of daffodils proclaims spring more effectively than most anything else, with the possible exception of forsythia. Pushing their way through still frosty earth early in the year, daffodils stubbornly gather strength in weather that would seem lethal to the tender shoots. Then they race for the sky and ... wait.

Suddenly one day you notice a slight tinge of yellow at the tips, then more and more until some morning the first one opens. Then the other follow in a mad rush.

We have a number of different kinds in our backyard, including my favorites - yellow-petaled with an orangey-yellow bell in the center. We cut them and share them with our friends and offices.

Of course, the most famous daffodil of all is William Wordsworth's:

"Daffodils" (1804)
I Wander'd 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;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

A tip on raising daffodils: Let the green stalks die back completely before cutting them. Yeah, it makes the patch look messy, but those stalks are making food for the bulbs, so you will have more and better daffodils the next year!