Last year I bound quite a lot of little bunches (that word might be better than "bouquet"?) on the days spent in Bavaria. When I walked through nature I picked a few wild flowers to bring a whiff of spring or summer inside.
Here you see the first little posy of the year 2023: three fragrant violets and three daisies, together in a tiny Meissen porcelain vase.
"Above all flouris in the mede
Than I love most those flouris
White and rede;
Soche that men call daisies
In our towne"
writes Geoffrey Chaucer.
Daisies - or Bellis perennis - are my first flower-memory from very early childhood:
in times - though quite a time after the end of WWII - mothers were still advised to feed their children exactly all four hours, and let them cry "to strengthen their lungs", and my mother followed that advice strictly and put my pram outside on the meadow, or, when the weather grew warmer, put me on a cover on the grass.
Daisies fascinated me - they smelled quite strange, but looked lovely.
