Clusters of daisies along the side of the road brush gently against my shin as a ride by; it feels like a sign, or even a benediction. The pastures are full of flowers – yellow buttercups, blue cornflowers, fuchsia clover. Field crops are greening in rows, the air is scented with freshly mown hay and honeysuckle. Swifts and swallows spiral in the air around the eaves of old barns. My mind is quiet, calm, even meditative as I listen to the soft whrrr of my wheels against the gentle curve of the road. I give thanks for the solitude, for the peacefulness of slow travel on my bicycle. The daisies have blessed me.