When the daisies bloom

Daisies grew at the back of my grandfather’s land on the railway embankment. I loved going out to pick them. I was blonde and blue eyed and the daisies reached my waist. My grandfather used his pocket knife to cut the stems; I carried the armload of blossoms. In my mind’s eye, it is a beautiful image.

Perhaps that is why I have such a hard time ripping the daisies out of my garden.

They are wonderful flowers, simple flowers – crisp white petals surrounding a warm yellow center. They withstand strong winds and harsh temperatures. Their seeds over-winter well in our part of Minnesota. They make beautiful bouquets, and they grow like crazy.

Thus the idea of ripping them out of my garden. In June, as I weed, I leave the daisy seedlings with their charming little ruffled leaves, except right around the perennials that will be growing larger through out the summer. I am always optimistic that the perennials will grow faster than the daisies.

In July, when the daisies are in full, riotous ( and I do mean riotous – as in wrecking carnage on their surroundings) bloom, the perennials are struggling to be seen. And the annuals that I planted in June, the alyssum, nasturtiums and zinnias, are struggling to survive, blanketed as they are by masses of daisies.

Dave doesn’t have my fond memories of daisies. He recognizes them as weeds and treats them accordingly. I cut the daisies to fill vases all through the house, hopeful that they will re-bloom later in the summer. Dave rips them out of the ground in great flowery bunches.

By August, the gaillardia will be in full glory; the fragrance of alyssum will saturate the air; and tasty orange nasturtiums will form mounds at the edge the garden. The glads and hollyhocks will tower over the blossoms in front of them; and the phlox will just be coming into their own. The garden will be a mass of brilliant colors and textures.

But my favorite time in the garden is right now, when the daisies bloom.