Daisy, daisy, give me your answer do.

The Shasta daisy plant that I bought at the Farmer’s Market last year has returned and is currently in bloom.  Because I am really 14 years of age at heart, I just love its botanical name, “Leucanthemum x superbum”  and seeing it never fails to make me giggle slightly.  I love these plants because they are a close cousin of the beloved “dog daisy” (or Oxeye daisy) which grow wild along the roadsides in Britain.  Whenever I would go for a walk along the banks of the Lancaster Canal as a child, or played in the ruins of some abandoned or demolished building,  I would invariably pick a bunch and take them home to my Mum.


As I had mentioned previously, the African Daisy plants that I bought for 50 cents at Lowes last year, not only overwintered but appear to be thriving.

I like daisies.  From the humble English Daisy of Daisy Chain fame, to the Shasta, African, Oxeye, and of course the Gazania, they always charm with their simplicity.  They appear to me to always be smiling, and as such always elicit a smile.    I even enjoy the simple, airy beauty of Fleabane which is considered a weed around here, and I have been known to dig them up from the lawn prior to mowing day and find them a safer place to reside.

“And you’d look sweet, upon the seat, of a bicycle made for two”

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