When I went out to get the horses this evening, about dusk, there was a doe watching me walk through the field.  She held very still, as if I couldn’t see her then.  I watched her for a few minutes until she realized I wasn’t there for her.  I watched her go, and then I let my attention wander...

The field is full of daisies in bloom.  If you’ve ever seen this, you know it is a spectacular sight!  If you haven’t seen this yet, be on the lookout for it; you’ll be glad that you paused long enough to see such a beautiful sight.

As I called for the horses, I wander toward a patch of daisies.  Without even realizing it, I’d begun to pick the seemingly-glowing flowers that reflected the sun’s fading light.  I picked a few from one patch, then moved over to pick from another.  Some of the flowers were missing a couple white petals; but with daisies, at least to me, they don’t have to be a perfect flower to be perfect for picking. They don’t have a smell; that’s not what makes them special; it’s something about them being so ordinary, yet still beautiful.

I kept moving from patch to patch, picking… recalling days gone by when I was younger... I would ride my horse to a lake that was about a two hour ride from home.  I’d pack a lunch and I was set for the day.  I packed stuff for me and stuff for my horse, Cindy.  She was a big, fat Appaloosa, with a silvery mane and tail that always looked tangled, even if I had just finished brushing it.  We were best buds, riding for hours and hours.  She’d eat some of my sandwich (peanut butter and jelly or peanut butter and banana) and then we’d go on our way!  On the way home, we’d stop in a field FULL of daisies.  I mean, really full – it was like a white sea of flowers.  I’d hop off, Cindy would eat, and I would wander away from her, picking and picking.  When I’d gathered as much as I could hold in my hand, I’d go back to her and ride home.  I guess I gave the flowers to my mom, I don’t really recall... The memory is in the picking...

So, tonight, as I reminisced, I picked, just like in times gone by.  The other field of daisies doesn’t exist anymore – a housing development has long since taken its place. (I’m sure the people who live there now don’t have any idea what it used to be...)

But, for just a moment, I was back there again, and when I snapped out of it a few minutes later, I had a great big handful of daisies.  Some will only see a vase with a bunch of scraggly, imperfect, unscented daisies, but to me, they are so much more!