A weed is but a flower unloved...
I didn't get too much weeding done yesterday. As you can see, I was busy taking pictures of them.
No, these are not in my garden, they are in the wild area at the edge of our lawn. This used to be where our horse paddock was located. Now, it is a tangle of pin oak and honeysuckle and wild roses. There are daisies and thistle, milkweed and wild yarrow. It is a haven for birds and rabbits, and the deer bed down here at night.
For me, it is a reminder of the place I grew up in, when our Little Red House was surrounded by fields of daisies and black-eyed susans. I would pick armloads of them to bring in the house, where my mother would put them in vases.
Now we are surrounded by houses, and the fields are few and far between. But given a bit of untouched land, the daisies and milkweed still survive. And although I can no longer count on armloads to pick, I will still have a few vases to fill, and a reminder of days gone by here at Little Red House.
Who says you can't go home again?