Nostalgia and the Daisy Chain


Childhood Summers spent in a small, quaint rural town.

Hot days spent frolicking about with the local kids at the river.

Long walks to the Ferry Bridge Orchid to gather juicy pears and big delicious plums.

Horse treks across the countryside on a mission of discovery.

Some days we liked to hang out atop a small hill that looked over the General Store.

Unnoticed, we could peek down at the comings and goings at this favorite local hub.

We listened in to the gossip, and would occasionally throw small stones down at the cars below, just to be cheeky.

But for the most part, we would lie in the lush grass, making daisy chains, and chatting, about things that mattered to us.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s