And then it poured! Isn’t this grand, I said to the animals as they stood at their doors watching the rain come down. Sometimes on rainy days we tell each other stories. Daisy wanted to know why she had been called Daisy. 
It all started with a rainy day I said to Daisy. With the rain pouring down. I said this to a very old woman once, I was terribly young. She had said to me, What is the weather, celi? Oh, Mrs Murphy, I said, it is raining down. She looked at me over her spectacles. Well, she said, it would look bloody silly if it was raining UP wouldn’t it? Daisy always chortles at this part of the story. Have you ever heard a cow chortle. 
She was such a sharp tongued old woman. I loved her. She was my favourite on that ward. She would say to me: Oh Celi. You have such beautiful eyes. Then she would pause for effect. Just like my old cow, Daisy. And she would turn back to her newspaper trying to keep a straight face. 
If I ever have a cow, I would say to her after I got to know her better, (here I would pause), I am going to name her Daisy – after YOU. At this she would laugh out loud and send me to fetch something that she knew was right at the other end of the ward that she did not really want anyway. 
Daisy loves that story.
During those years I had the very rare privilege of being present at the deaths of four old women. Mrs Murphy had no family who visited. Once she signed over the farm she never saw her son and his miserable wife again. So Matron was happy for me to sit with her at the end. Matron was very good at knowing when it was time to begin the sitting. “I am glad it was you” was the last thing Mrs Murphy said. Using the past tense as though she were already gone. Mrs Murphy was a tiny woman. A tough, mean, old loveable woman. But I bet she ran her small herd of milking cows with an iron hand. 
Good morning. There is a story behind every good name. Don’t you think?
It rained again in the night. Nothing really terrible, just welcome rain. Once again we are at the high temperatures for the day, 43F (6C). This is the end of our warm spell. I will have to light the fire again today. It has gone unlit for three days now.
And now I must rush out the door. I am late. And Daisy does not care who I named her after if I am late!
Have a lovely day.
celi
The Kitchen's Garden 
45 responses to “Hiding out from the Rain and the Story of Daisy’s name”
You’ll have to do Just So Stories from the farmy 😉
Thank you for the story, Celi! My son will now tell my daughter, as often as possible, that she has beautiful eyes like a cow. And my daughter is convinced that the peacock (who should have married a chicken in the first place) is having an affair with the rooster. (She’s a little unclear about what an “affair” entails, but apparently someone was talking about it on the school bus which means what she lacks in knowledge she makes up for in giggles.) Anyway, I read the story of Daisy’s name to them over breakfast, and it was a wonderful start to our day. Thanks, again!
What an amazing full life you are leading …
Glad to hear those terrible storms passed you by…
Very touching story Celi, you squishy, pink-hearted girl. Lucky old Mrs Murphy for having you and lucky you for having had that experience. It’s certainly true here about names and stories. Every name is emotion based when given, don’t you think? But every name stops being a name and becomes the owner after only one second and the name becomes irrelevant, like the colour of eyes…it just is. 🙂
What beautiful stories, Celi! I was already a bit teary this morning–no real reason, just one of those days, I guess–and your story about sitting with Mrs. Murphy as she was dying got to me. Such love. Thanks for sharing this one (and the story of Daisy’s name, of course).
I enjoyed learning the story behind Daisy’s naming, Celi. Very sweet story. 40 years ago, as I left high school and before I started college, I worked for a time in a convalescent hospital and to this day I can remember some of the people who lived there. I loved many of them and had my heart broken by many more. I don’t think I had the privilege of sitting with someone at that time as they left this life for another, but I am confident your care at that time was meaningful. Lovely story…now take care during your busy, rainy day. D
when we first got our baby donkey we called her Daisy because she was beautiful and I think that daisies are beautiful flowers. Now she has a new home and her name is changed to Maisie but to me she will always be my little Daisy
When I read stories of family walking away from each other I always wonder what each party did during all the years. As my good friend Phyllis Diller says, “Always be nice to your children because they are the ones who will choose your rest home”
Love Leanne NZ
The light in that barn is beautiful. You should try doing portraits ( I know you do portraits of the animals, but try people) or food shots.
,,,, I meant to suggest that you do the portraits and food shots in the barn. Did that come over? Oh.well.
Very nice story. Thanks for sharing and if you upset the Cow there will be NO MILK 🙂
Such a sweet story. Daisy is quite the perfect name for a cow. 🙂
Lovely story. Her family was all the poorer for not knowing her as you did. So glad a friend was beside her. (RC gladly awards a soft grateful cheek pat from a paw a touched with a tear…don’t want to spread germs to you with a HUG from me…she insisted.)
Awww. 🙂
My parents had agreed to name me “Steven Patrick,” but when I was born, Dad changed it to “James William” after his two brothers. When my uncle, James Elvin was born, an in-law for whom my grandfather held no affection came over and cooed over him, saying something like “Look at little Jimmy!” That’s when grandpa piped in gruffly, “We’re calling him Elvin!” And so they did.
Uncle Elvin didn’t like being called that, and switched to Jim when he left home. But Dad knew him as Elvin when they were growing up, so he was Uncle Elvin to us. My other uncle’s name is “William Dallas” and he goes by “Dallas.”
I always thought it strange that my uncles had two perfectly serviceable first names, and neither used them (at least at first).
A little more than a year after I was born, my brother, “Steven Patrick” followed.