'Daisy, daisy...'

On sunny days in Summer when I was a little girl, I spent many happy hours sitting on the grass making daisy chains with my friends.
I liked the bright yellow centres, sometimes tinged with green, and the rosette of dainty snow- white petals, tinged red at the tips when closed.

It was my dad who told me the story of how the daisy got its name, so-called because it is the ‘day’s eye’, as it opens with the light and closes again when the day is done. Perhaps that is where we get the expression, ‘as fresh as a daisy’, to describe the feeling after a good night’s sleep.
Daisies are among our most common wild flowers. We walk all over them, crushing them with our feet, and snip their heads off when cutting the grass, yet still they bounce back again. Perhaps, because they are so ordinary, they are seldom appreciated.
In the language of flowers, the daisy is said to represent innocence and, when closed, it is the emblem of purity.
Here at Barleycorn, having no grass because of my hay-fever, our elder son sowed a packet of ox-eye daisy seeds. Sixteen years later, they grow in profusion under the trees and around the ponds, making nectar borders for bees and butterflies.

Luther Burbank said, ‘Flowers always make people better, happier, and more helpful; they are sunshine, food and medicine for the soul.’ I feel that sentiment applies to all flowers, and, none more so, than the humble daisy.