Stop and Smell the Daisies

daisiesStopping to smell the flowers and/or roses, depending on how you heard it, is actually a misquote. Thanks to google, I now know the true quote to be…

“You’re only here for a short visit. Don’t hurry. Don’t worry. And be sure to smell the flowers along the way.”

~ Walter Hagen

On the way into work today I saw a huge bunch of beautiful white daisies in full bloom on the side of a forgotten shack. I stopped.

I didn’t pick any. I didn’t even get out of the vehicle. I simply pulled over on the side road, smiled at them for a few minutes, and let the flowers do what the cloud covered sun couldn’t this morning—warm my insides. I heart a good daisy. They’re like dandelions to me. More weed than flower, more wild than tamed, will grow anywhere and do whatever they please. Little rays of stubborn sunshine no matter the cloud cover.

It’s been a rough week or so. I’ve had dayjob hell getting quarterlies done with new tax crap we have to deal with for the locals and preparing for the upcoming tax season. I’ve had fun with teens (who can be as fickle as daisy petal plucking—I like him, no I don’t, I like him, no I don’t). I’m still fighting with the insurance people from the car accident. We have two new kittens (because one cat cannot replace a lost needy cat, it takes two!), a critter in the garage and a graveyard that stands alone (oddly, I haven’t decorated much this year. It’s not cold enough here for my brain to trigger October). And because I cannot be one of those that sits by and watches, I reported abuse and played safe haven for an adopted teen or two that needed us. Life is crazy.

Daisies are nature’s way of saying, “chillax, dudette.” So I did. I stopped and smiled. And as I sat there I thought about other little things that make me smile. Silly things. Simple things. Things that earn me both an eye roll (for being 12) and a chuckle from the Hippie—bubbles in the house, talking to bugs, sidewalk chalk, cartoon bandaids, jumping in puddles, crayons. Even when I want to hide or scream, I can smile…

So. It’s Thursday. You know what that means. What was the last silly, stupid, little nothing of a thing you smiled at? Not your kids or your partner, that’s cheating. Something out there that is just for you. That warms your internal sun and heats your blood. What was your last daisy?

And if you can’t answer, perhaps you should look around and find something… Instead of watching a child, play with them. Or better yet, just become one for 10 minutes a day. It does a psyche good!

0 Responses to Stop and Smell the Daisies

  • Horror World says:

    Ignore my twitter DM – question answered. Good luck with the new kittehs.

    I’m going out to sniff some mums ;)

  • Meteornotes says:

    My two cats wrestling and chasing each other around the house is always entertaining. And all the random Ugly Dolls, sharks, gators, and other random stuffed creatures in my office amuse me for reasons I will never be able to explain.

  • Marcy says:

    Just because the kids found it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t count! “Mama! A BIG bug! Hello big fella!”

    Last week was the first time I’d ever seen a real praying mantis, in my own back yard no less! It was trying to climb the fence and kept slipping. Bugger worked so damn hard and kept ending up where he started. Was it a he? I wondered and then remembered what happens to the males when they mate. That made me chuckle. :)

  • Jo Meys says:

    I would have to say raking leaves last weekend. It has been a few years since I’ve had to do that “chore”. I forgot how much I love it! The crispness of fall, the smell and crunch of the leaves. Then lighting a bonfire, sitting on a log, and watching the sun set over the stillness of the bare trees.

  • wolfnoma says:

    Hi Kelli,

    I have been crazy busy lately and have not really had the opportunity to sit down and read all the blogs I read and since I always save yours for last I am just now getting around to it. Your blog that is.

    I have to say first that this is a great question and I know the exactactly what it is that made me smile, the problem is I don’t really know if I can do that moment any justice by writing it down. But, I shall try.

    I saw a man, an older man, not stooped over and crotchety but he was definately on his way to that state of being. This man, he had on a button down shirt covered by a brown knit sweater that had three buttons on it and his pants were khaki, you know the type of man I’m speaking of. The kind of man that has worked hard all his life in some sort of trade, be it plumbing, carpentry, or mechanical work. A man with rough, lined hands that matched the lines on his face but the roughness never seemed to seep into his soul and just by looking into his cool brown eyes you knew there was a softness, a gentlenss in him where all of lifes evils never seemed to make it past the barriers of his temperment and taint him against the world. I saw him, he was sitting at a table in a restaraunt with his wife, holding her hand with a look of joy, satifaction and contentment on his face that comes from a life of shared happiness, sorrow, love and loss. A life that they built together while conquering all obstacles that were put in front of them. They survived by staying together through the wars and tears. The misery of losing a child and the happiness of gaining a new grandchild.

    It was the way he just reached out to his wife and gently held her hand that made me smile. The confidence that he had in knowing that her hand would always be there to comfort him through the mundane daily tasks like washing the dishes to the ever growing appearances at the local cemetary as another of their generation is laid to rest. He knew she would be there. She had always been there. She would always be there.

    I smiled.

  • Kelli says:

    closed and moved

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