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One of the lesser known Hans Christian Anderson stories, The Butterfly, incorporates this classic (albeit unprecise - sorry to be blunt) way of choosing your loved one. There is a daisy known as Marguerite who can tell fortunes by removing her petals. However, when the butterfly comes to ask who he should marry he kisses each petal rather than removing them, although he ends up insulting her and never finds out who he ought to marry.
I came across the story by complete and utter accident and realised i had never read the tale, although I have spent far too many summer days killing innocent flowers in an attempt to decide if he really loves me or not, and so after much embarrassment at my lack of awareness of the basis of the ritual, i started to think about what it means to me. I suppose there's something serene about it, knowing in the back of my mind that it's just a game and doesn't really matter, but I also always wish love was really that simple. If all it required to realise how we felt was to pull off some flower petals, I'd empty a garden in seconds! But if it was really that simple, perhaps we wouldn't appreciate it as much. Sometimes you have to fight with your mind to decide what your heart wants and sometimes even then your heart can be mistaken.
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