I remember in my childhood,
I was alking one nice day
With my mother, in a garden,
Where the flowers bloomed so gay!
I bent down to pick a rosebud,
(twas a very lovely hue)
but my mother said "Don't pick it,
for it's not the thing to do."
As we were heading homeward through a field of daisies fair -
I was filled with joy and pleasure
at the great profusion there.
And my mother smiled and told me
that since these were only weeds
I could pick as many"flowers"
as would fill my every need...
by Carolyn Schulte
I just had to honor her with this painting: