|A field of daisies.|
When my mother was married in 1953, her budget was not minimal; it was nonexistent. Her father had died a year earlier and her mother was struggling to support her family on her salary as a bookkeeper. My mother had to abandon her college education to come home and work. When it came to decorations for her wedding, my mother and her sisters did most of the preparation. My mother sewed her gown. Her sisters and her mother offered to decorate the church and reception hall with flowers. On June 13, 1953, my mother spent the morning collecting hundreds and hundreds of daisies to make into bouquets and to fill vases at the altar in the church. Over my lifetime, daisies came to mean family, love, loyalty. Once, I looked up the symbolic meaning of daisies in a book about the language of flowers. I found that they convey a message of loyal love and beauty, patience and simplicity. Every June, my eyes rove the roadside meadows looking for the first daisies of the season. When my mother was alive, I brought, mailed, drew, sent or created daisies for my parents' anniversary every year. They were married for 57 years.
The daisy habit has not diminished much since my mother's death. This year, however, the daisies bloomed about two weeks early. I was thoroughly surprised to see them this morning. I knew enough to follow their lead. I nosed my car into a turnoff so I could pay tribute to a field of daisies. I photographed and communed for about fifteen minutes. When I turned the car toward home, I was just a bit calmer. Just a bit more peaceful.
|Facing the sun.|
|A singular daisy.|
|A vase of daisies for the ride home.|