On Drying Daisies

These past few weeks have been all about the daisies.

They have arrived with a vengeance on my allotment (be warned, they are a total thug), the verges of Devon and Dorset are full to the brim with their swaying, smiley faces, and my wildflower patch at home is dotted with white sparks of joy.

I adore oxeye daisies.

I don’t remember seeing them in such numbers when I was a child, so I often wonder whether they are genuinely more abundant now, or whether I simply notice them more.

These daisies have been part of my business and creative projects since I first started out nearly 10 years ago. One of my earliest "installations" was wonderfully simple: a garden riddle hung with drying oxeye daisies for my good friend Lulu's creative venture, The She Shed.

Foraged from the side of the busy A31 near where I used to live, I gathered them in abundance, cycling home with my bike basket overflowing with flowers before hanging them out to dry and waiting patiently to see the results.

They looked so beautiful up against the wooden cabin, with pure white and yellow popping against the dark backdrop.

And since then, each year, I cut hundreds and hundreds of stems to dry.