The town has been positively awash with them and, if you read Trevor Barwood, chairman of Haverhill in Bloom, in last week's Echo, you'll know everything you need to know about the plant and its name.
That is all purely coincidental to the fact that I trundled up to the Lake District last week to see... you've guessed it, daffodils.
Regular readers of this column will know the Lake District is one of my favourite haunts, and I had been there in all different seasons except April.
That may seem surprising, as one of the area's most iconic tourist attractions are the daffodils made famous by Wordsworth in one of the best-known and best-loved poems in English.
And the best time to see them is April – or, as I discovered last week, early April.
Various factors coincide to make April a difficult month for me to have a holiday. I'm a church organist and Easter always tends to be in the way.
But this year, with Easter so early, I was determined to see the famous flowers in situ, as it were.
However, all was not as straightforward as one might imagine.
First, there aren't as many daffodils around up there as you may think.
If I wanted to see hosts of them, I was beginning to think I would have been better off staying in Haverhill.
Secondly, the daffodils Wordsworth saw on that memorable day, and which are recorded so faithfully in his sister's diary as well as in the poem, were wild, and not the huge cultivars which we now grow in our gardens and on roadside verges.
Like so many wild native species, they aren't as plentiful now as they were 200 years ago.
New imports and hybrids are very good at elbowing out the native originals – look at the cases of bluebells and red squirrels.
You will rarely find an English bluebell nowadays – almost every one you see will be a Spanish bluebell, a foreign invader.
The difference, I believe, is that the flowers on the English bluebell all grow on one side of the stem, whereas those on the Spanish one grow on all sides.
I think there must be a metaphor there somewhere, though whether it reflects well on English or Spanish characteristics is probably best left alone.
Wild red squirrels are almost unknown in the south of England now, having been over-run by the stronger greys, which came from America.
You can see some native reds in the north, where people are trying desperately to defend them by culling greys.
The trouble is squirrels are cute and killing greys seems such an unpleasant task.
It's lovely to see them trotting around in Haverhill churchyard, but there is no getting away from the fact that they are a pest.
Modern hybrid daffodils are not a pest in that sense, but they do look rather out of place outside a garden or municipal setting.
Most are just too big, yellow and trumpety.
The wild ones seen by Wordsworth, and eventually also tracked down by me, are smaller, paler, more spindly and much more in keeping with their surroundings in fields and woodland.
They also flower rather earlier, so I came upon a host of mostly rather brown and shrivelled representatives, which had about as much chance of tossing their heads in sprightly dance as I did at the end of a long and strenuous walk.
But there were enough still fresh for me to imagine what a sight it must have been beside the lake, beneath the trees.
Returning to Haverhill, I find I am still delighted by the sight of the modern version in such abundance, so bravo to those who spent the time putting them in.
They are indeed, as Wordsworth said of those he saw, 'jocund company' for a cold spring morning.