Okay now, everybody take a deep breath because I declare the official beginning of — summer. Yes, I know that there are some among you who, erroneously, believe that summer started two days ago, but I'm here to tell you that it really didn't. Summer really begins when my first (shasta) daisy opens, and that occurred today.
That's right! My first daisy opened today. Actually, the second, on a different cultivar in a totally different part of the garden, is just about fully birthed too — it just has to stretch its rapidly unfurling petals a tiny bit more. The first is a tall, old variety: the second a newer, dwarfish cultivar. But the two plants' clocks are certainly in synch: both with each other and with the season. How do they do that?
Daisies aren't my very favourite plant, but who doesn't really like them a lot? They speak of the newness of early summer: the season that probably has a deeper pyschological impact on Canadians than on just about anybody else on the planet: sun, swimming, holidays, camping, cottaging, woods, lakes, streams, mountains, and no school!
The expression, fresh as a daisy is just that — an expression — because it's also a truism. There's something special about a daisy, perhaps because they are as fresh as an early summer morn. And summer is ... well it's summer. That's what.
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