A Field of Daisies, a Place of Wonder
A character in a novel by Anne Tyler was on her deathbed, trying to remember whether she had ever had a moment of happiness in her long life. Suddenly she realized that she had had such a moment: as a girl, she had found herself in a field of daisies.
If there is a heaven, I hope it will have daisies. Without daisies, how could it be a real heaven?
I've surrounded myself with daisies in the past few summers. I have planters with white coneflowers on my porch. They have come up, and will hopefully have fragrant blossoms two months from now. The scent of a coneflower (any coneflower) reminds me of the aroma of a fresh peach. Bees and butterflies love coneflowers. Technically, coneflowers are called echinacea. They are in the daisy family, which also includes English daisies, Montauk daisies, asters, Rudbeckia, sunflowers, dandelions, chrysanthemums, and even lettuce.
I fantasize being on the edge of a field that stretches to the horizon, filled with members of the daisy family, all of them in bloom. Bees and butterflies are everywhere. Goldfinches flit here and there, gathering material for their nests. In my fantasy, it is always a temperate day in late June. Behind me is a comfortable bench in the shade of a forest. I sit on the bench, enjoying the field, while behind me a small brook gurgles.