I have been a regular visitor of elara, mush, zaza, julia and kak muna's pages for quite some time now. Their lovely stories, exquisite recipes and lovely crafts welcome me every time I am there. They generously offer scenic pictures of the foreign land they call home and talk about the new experiences and discoveries which I wished I could have a taste of. It's fairly easy to be transported to their homes via telepathy of course, and I don't know why but I constantly find myself in their glorious gardens, sitting amidst all those spring flowers which are in bloom. Yes! it is Spring now, a time to inhale the scent of those beautiful flowers, feed the ducks, jump on the neighbour's trampoline(elara's neighbour has one) and just bury yourself in the daisy bush and sneeze yourself silly after. So to Elara, Mush, Zaza, Julia and Kak Muna, thanks for sharing a glimpse of your life there, a taste of your dishes and a note of your thoughts. I'm hooked.
To commemorate the arrival of Spring, I made the perfect flower for it. Another sweet and bubbly blogger Anis, requested a special cake for her mother's birthday. She didn't specifically ask me to have daisies on the cupcakes, only to have them in pastels. That allowed me more freedom to be creative, which I like very so much - thanks Anis. So here it is ...daisies oh daisies in spring.
Thanks a bunch of Daisies Anis!
It is possible, I suppose that sometime
we will learn everything
there is to learn: what the world is, for example,
and what it means. I think this as I am crossing
from one field to another, in summer, and the
mockingbird is mocking me, as one who either
knows enough already or knows enough to be
perfectly content not knowing. Song being born
of quest he knows this: he must turn silent
were he suddenly assaulted with answers. Instead
oh hear his wild, caustic, tender warbling ceaselessly
unanswered. At my feet the white-petalled daisies display
the small suns of their center piece, their - if you don't
mind my saying so - their hearts. Of course
I could be wrong, perhaps their hearts are pale and
narrow and hidden in the roots. What do I know?
But this: it is heaven itself to take what is given,
to see what is plain; what the sun lights up willingly;
for example - I think this
as I reach down, not to pick but merely to touch -
the suitability of the field for the daisies, and the
daisies for the field.
Beautifully written by