after dinner daisies

(oh, how I love June)

My artist friend told me where to find the secret daisy field; it was up the hill, he said, behind the gatehouse. On a Thursday after supper we went to look for it — the washing-up left on the side, my kids still in their school uniform — everything abandoned for a moment, in hope of a little June adventure.

Each year, in the countryside where I live, the secret fields of summer appear. Sometimes daisies, sometimes poppies, they are rarely in the same place twice and when found, their locations are passed amongst friends like whispers: ‘ Along the road that leads out of the village, if you stop in the second lay-by and follow the footpath, you’ll find it.’

Long summer evenings — sweet-scented, and slow — are a time to set aside routines and head out the door on a whim in search of swathes of flowers. When we found the daisies, behind the gatehouse as promised, there was no one beneath the summer sky but us. We walked along the footpath that borders the field. Golden light glowed through the blooms, long grass swished, laughter echoed, and above the hill the skylarks sang.

These evenings are June jewels, memories that I hold tight to as the days fly, the seasons turn, and the daisies disappear. Perhaps my children will recall them too, moments fluttering like butterflies at the edges of their consciousness in years to come. The sparkle of summer spontaneity, and after dinner daisies.

Thank you for reading,

Laura x

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