For many years, daisies were my favorite flowers. When John and I married, he promised me that I would have daisies every day because they brought me so much joy.
Well, that promise was one that was quickly broken–probably at my own insistence because I’m such a cheapskate. But back then I spent very little time thinking about flowers. I was busy working three jobs, then mothering two children, etc, etc
Now I find myself spending more and more time gazing at flowers. Yes, part of it is because I have some freedom in my life right now that affords me the time for leisure, the time for contemplation. And I do try hard not to take that gift for granted. Because I’ve found worlds without end on the insides of flowers.
I’m no longer strictly a daisy fan. Rather, I enjoy the merits of whatever flower happens to cross my path on a particular day. Last week it was this bright pink gerber daisy, pictured here, that I put in a vase with a half-dozen of a similar hue. This morning it was a royal purple iris hiding under a little table in the center of my flower garden. What will tomorrow bring? Roses peut-etre? That would be lovely, as I do relish the scent of a tea rose…
There came a time when the risk to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.