Fresh As A Daisy

Our shasta daisies are in full bloom. They make such a sprightly bunch off in the f-a-r corner of our garden. Far enough away from the patio and the deck, for as anyone who knows this plant will tell you, they are not grown for their sweet and pleasing fragrance.

I love to tell the story of a day one summer long ago, when I convinced my young nephew to go check out the pretty daisies growing along the side of the house, and to be sure to give them a good, deep sniff. He came back, nose all a-wrinkle. Ewwwww! Disgusting! He was so delightedly 'grossed out' by their pungent, odd smell that he went off to find his dad. Dad, you have to come smell these r-e-a-l-l-y nice flowers.

So, the joke around here right now is that Mr. Hubbs is trying to convince me that I should go and give them a good sniff as they are really nice. Sez she, Aha, we might have been born in the night, but it wasn't last night!

Do you remember that old sing-song young girls used to rattle off as they plucked the petals off one by one, secretly hoping that it would count off right? He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not, he loves me....

Mr. Hubbs and I both were single a long time before we met and married, and so it isn't that many years ago when the daisy petal song FINALLY counted out the right way for me ......... he loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not, he loves me!

And, so there's the post.  I wish you a beautiful day... filled with something fresh and sprightly. And not too smelly.

Hugs,

Brenda

xox