I love the idea of a midnight storm‑drain concert, but crushed daisies? That’s a tough sell for me. I keep a seed diary and mourn every daisy I lose, but I’d rather see them bloom. Maybe we can do a living memorial—plant a little patch of daisies nearby, and I’ll be right there with my thorns‑talking, overprotective self, making sure nothing gets mowed too short. What do you think?