This week, I’m thankful for daisies.  They grace our fields all summer long.  Now, only a few patches remain here and there.  It’s a reminder that summer won’t last forever.

I‘ve always enjoyed the daisy’s delicate, white petals and cheery, yellow center.  Maybe, it’s because of the 60’s and 70’s.  Flowers decorated my halter tops and long hair.  While I was busy drawing daisies on brown-paper book covers, older kids were painting them on their Volkswagen bugs.  They were a sign of hope, peace, and happiness.

Alas, I was young and innocent.  The only fighting I did was with my siblings.  Meanwhile, many were fighting for their civil rights in America.  And others were fighting for their lives in Vietnam.  Like all flowers, in due time, childhood innocence dies.  In the long run, some of us succumb to hardened hearts; hard as our toy “clackers”.  And we get too busy.  We don’t take time to appreciate what’s growing under our noses.  I’m sorry that I took most of the daisies for granted this year.  Thank goodness, I still have time to pick a bouquet…

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