At the risk of incurring the wrath of censorious botanists and floral enthusiasts alike, I would like to humbly submit an inexpert opinion as to the designation of this white-petalled flower, to which my attentions fell upon during a late afternoon walk around the neighborhood, the weather being pleasantly accommodating for such exercise. The flowers were part of a forest of plants that could collectively be classed a “lazy garden,” as it proliferated like weeds on the grounds of an estate long abandoned for decades. As for the purpose of my being thereabout, you will forgive me if I so graciously decline in providing a satisfactory answer to that pertinent question, based on the grounds that it might surely incriminate me on charges of trespassing.
But returning to the flower which had caught my eye, its simple nature and rustic beauty had the effect of evoking scenes of the idyllic countrysides depicted in dramatic works written before the 20th century that I have read, like to read, and only read; for there is something exquisitely appealing in the style of writing in those narrations composed prior to the viral introduction of 1900s abstractionism, which usurped its predecessor and became a lasting fashion, its meanings of which continue to elude me today, and so I avoid its corruptions. However I digress from the point I desired to make at the beginning of this long relation. So returning to that time, before I added the verbose distractions that is commonly practiced (and appreciated) in the glorious days of yore, the point of the matter is, I do believe, with no evidence or experience and qualifications to speak of, that this flower is most likely, perhaps so to a certain degree though I could be wrong, plus or minus a few genes, a daisy, I think.