Sidelines

She never usually has the time nor the inclination to potter about in the garden and she seemed to think that the strimmer would be pleasant to use (nothing like as taxing as a lawn mower). She came into the house an hour later and insisted that I made a tour of the garden, so I could tell her what a wonderful job she'd done and what a clever girl she was. So she was taken aback when I wailed 'where are my daisies?' I'd been nurturing a lovely clump of pink-edged daisies in the cleft of some paving stones and had been out to admire them only that morning. It had never occurred to me that she'd even think of mowing down such pretty things. I don't understand what everyone has against daisies...

Why are they considered so pretty when growing in a field and so unwelcome in people's gardens? I draw the line at dandelions, but I'd love a lawn filled with buttercups and daisies (and one or two bright red poppies) instead of a cropped green mat devoid of colour, looking as if it's just been vacated by a flock of sheep. Daisies remind me of childhood and daisy chains and reading books on the grass in a long hot summer as a child. After I'd calmed down and explained all this to my daughter, she went out and picked me a posy of wild flowers.... well it's a start!