A Chain of Daisies

Phonetics

"Alright, Lily, which flowers do you want to plant out front this year?" Seymour shuffled through seed packets, sorting out the vegetables and herbs from the flowers. He put the non-flower variety back in the box and spread the flower packets out on the kitchen table.

"All of dem," Lily said, her feet sticking up where her head should've been.

"We can't plant all of them Lily-billy," Seymour said, "And please sit in your chair correctly, dear. I don't want you to fall,"

Lilly pulled herself up into the chair and peered at the packets of seeds. It had become a sort of tradition for them. Every year, when the weather started to warm up, father and daughter would sort through the seemingly endless types of flowers, deciding what to plant and where. From there, they would plant the seeds in little seed starters until they sprouted and were big enough to plant outside.

Just like Seymour, Lily had become fascinated with plants at an early age. Seymour loved being able to teach her and answer her many, many, questions. When Seymour would prepare for the upcoming growing season, Lily would always find her way into the action. Thus began the tradition.

"I don't wanna' grow the roses again," Lily said, pushing the packet away.

"Why not?" Seymour asked, grabbing the packet before it could fall to the floor.

"Because dey kept spiking me!" Lily cried, "And dat's not nice,"

"No, it's not nice at all," Seymour chuckled, remembering his own battles with rose bushes.

"I like the purple and blue ones," Lily picked out the packets with bright purple and blue flowers across the front.

"So do I," Seymour agreed. Seymour looked at the flowers Lily had selected: Iris, Lavender, Meconopsis, Hydrangea, and Blue Poppy.

"I also like the yellow ones," Lily said, pulling a few more packets out of the pile. To her collection, she added: Coneflower, Forsythia, Tansy, and Chrysanthemum.

"Gee Lily, that's a lot of flowers," Seymour said, "Maybe we should save some for the garden out back?"

"Maybe . . ." Lily said, "But maybe we could still fit them all out front,"

"I don't think so," Seymour replied, "Let's decide which ones we want to put out back and which ones we want to put out front,"

"Okay," Lily sighed. She flipped through the packets again. "But I like dem all!" she whined.

"We'll still get to plant all of them, but not in the front yard," Seymour reassured her, "How about these? Your Mama likes these," He tugged the Hydrangea out of the pile.

"What's dat one called?" Lily asked, leaning over the table to look at the brightly colored flowers on the packet.

"That's a Hydrangea bush," Seymour said.

"No . . ." Lily said, peering closer at the package.

"Whaddya mean 'No'?" Seymour asked playfully, "That's what it's called,"

"No, it's not," Lily said in that sassy six-year-old way.

"Then what is it called?" Seymour smiled, leaning in so that they were nose to nose.

"It's called a Hi-Drain-Jiya," Lily said, pointing out each of the syllables. Rolling her eyes she added, "You should know that, Daddy,"

Seymour laughed, unable to contain himself. Lily had been learning how to read at school and she would come home every day, proud of what she was able to sound out. As they drove through town, she would sound out the names of streets, restaurants, and shops. When Audrey was cooking, she would read the names of the ingredients. Similar to today, however, one may discover that not all words are spelled phonetically.

"Lily . . . dear," Seymour said between chuckles, "I know that's how it looks like it should be said, but it sounds different than it looks,"

"No, Daddy," Lily said in all seriousness, "Dat's how it works. Dat's what Miss Greyson said and she's always right, so you can stop laughing now,"

"Well, some words are different than the words that you're working on with Miss Greyson," Seymour explained, "Like Hydrangea,"

"No, Dad," Lily said, not having it, "Dat's not the right way to say it,"

Seymour looked at his daughter. She sat with her head cocked to one side, eyebrows raised, and arms crossed. There was no changing her mind. Seymour sighed, still laughing to himself.

"Fine," Seymour said, "We'll plant the Hi-Drain-Jiyas. But I'll think you'll change your mind about the way it's said Lily-billy,"

"No I won't," Lily rolled her eyes again, "Because I'm right,"

"Well, little Miss Krelborn," Seymour smiled mischievously, "Since you're always right . . . How do you say this?" He pulled the Chrysanthemum packet out from the pile. Lily leaned closer, looking at the long word. After staring at it for a few moments, she slumped back into her chair.

"Woah, Dad. Dat's a big, big, flower name . . ." Lily's brown eyes were wide, "I don't think it's possible to read that word! It's so big!"

"Do you want me to show you how to say it?"

"Yes!" Lily nodded eagerly.

"Chrysanthemum!" Seymour announced.

"Wow! There's a lot of sounds in that word!" Lily smiled.

"Yeah, but do ya wanna know a secret?"

"What?" Lily leaned in again, bouncing up and down with excitement.

"We just call them mums," Seymour whispered.

"Ohh . . ." Lily attempted to whisper, "Don't worry Daddy, I won't tell anyone,"

"Okay, I trust you," Seymour bent forward and kissed Lily's forehead, "Now let's get back to sorting these flowers," Lily giggled at her new secret and the pair went back to work.