All About Daisies

It has been so sad to see my beautiful daisy garden filled with black seed tops this month. Unfortunately my daisy garden only blooms once in a year. I did not want to write about the death of my flowers. But now, I have decided they are only sleeping. The stems will blacken and be cut back. Spring will see new growth in the same area, so clearly they did not die. Hooray. I can now change my thinking on this. Perhaps next year I can add some ever-blooming varieties of daisies to relieve the sadness I felt all month.

I think that I am not a one time bloomer. I may not be an ever-bloomer, but at least an often-bloomer, or occassional-bloomer. I do love to try new things (this blog is one) and feel good about having success in new endeavors. My excitement about trying new things enables me to go beyond my reach. I just need to learn to be careful about the time required for each endeavor. I wasn’t careful this semester and and most everything fell way beyond my reach and way beyond the time available to think and meditate and remember what I’m learning.

My daisies are sleeping, but I am not. I’m backing off what I require of myself so I can at least accomplish something. I’m not going to seed and waiting until spring to bloom again. I’m just going to try to do one thing at a time. Well, maybe just fewer things at a time?

When I was a child this little game is what I loved about daisies.  Pull off a petal and say “loves me”, toss the petal away. Pull off another petal and say “loves me not”. Repeat until you are down to the last petal that tells your fortune.  We spent hours ruining daisies until we got the fortune we wanted. After I became interested in math I would count the petals first, then I knew how to get my desired outcome.

I don’t pluck petals off of daisies anymore because I know he loves me.  47 years so far. I know there were times when I wasn’t very likable, but he still loved me. This week I asked him to take me on a date so I could wear my new size 10 dress (a first for me). I felt like a real princess (not the Disney type) and he treated me like one. We had a lovely brunch of outstanding food on a sunny summer day overlooking Lake Michigan. How perfect is that!

He is more proud of me now that I have lost 50 pounds, but he loved me all through the process. He loved me all during my fat years, through my depressions and my ugliest days and as I have become an aging woman. How lucky am I!  He doesn’t need to pluck daisy petals either because he knows I love him with all my heart and being. My heart sings as I write this. I am a very fortunate (older and thinner) woman.

Clearly, I am not the only one who had a thought about daisies and life.  Mary Oliver expresses it more beautifully than I ever could. Ponder the poem before I write any more.

Mary Oliver poem about daisies

It is possible, I suppose that sometime
we will learn everything
there is to learn: what the world is, for example,
and what it means. I think this as I am crossing
from one field to another, in summer, and the
mockingbird is mocking me, as one who either
knows enough already or knows enough to be
perfectly content not knowing. Song being born
of quest he knows this: he must turn silent
were he suddenly assaulted with answers. Instead
oh hear his wild, caustic, tender warbling ceaselessly
unanswered. At my feet the white-petaled daisies display
the small suns of their center piece, their - if you don’t
mind my saying so - their hearts. Of course
I could be wrong, perhaps their hearts are pale and
narrow and hidden in the roots. What do I know?
But this: it is heaven itself to take what is given,
to see what is plain; what the sun lights up willingly;
for example - I think this
as I reach down, not to pick but merely to touch -
the suitability of the field for the daisies, and the
daisies for the field.

Mary Oliver

Do you remember The TV Show

Do you remember The Movie

or the book? Humorous quotes from the book

There is a review of the book on a blog about books.

If not, then you are younger than my generation.

As a young Mom I named our new puppy (an Olde English Sheepdog) Daisy. Are you surprised? She looked a lot like the Daisy in the TV show. She was goofy and we loved her for many years. As my daughters grew, Daisy’s fur soaked up a lot of tears. I will tell you some of her antics as time goes on.

I’m betting that daisies really do not taste good. Never tried them myself. Let me know if you have.