Occasional verse #6

The poppies for Remembrance Day,

Harboured a little stowaway,

Tucked out of sight, until we slept,

Then from her hiding place she crept,

And set to work, amidst the flowers,

To weave her lovely silken bower.

Next morn, when I came down the stairs,

I spied her sitting sweetly there.

But there the lady couldn’t stay,

The flowers were for school that day.

I picked her up and begging pardon,

Returned her gently to the garden.

Le Printemps

Well, the blossoms are all blossoming, spectacularly so. Sadly my phone went flat before I managed to snap a pic of the weeping cherry, finally in flower, but I did get some pics of the magnificent pom pom poppies and the apple blossoms in full flight. Teensy baby fruit are appearing on the quince, as was a graft of an old French variety, thanks to the garden's grafting guru, Don. 

Oh, and we had a lovely baby broad bean and apple salad for dinner. Thank you, Spring.

Poppy Love

In Flander's Fields the poppies blow,

Between the crosses, row on row.

-John McCray

Oh poppies, how I love thee!

White, pink, gold but most especially the scarlet. I'm not sure any other flower looks quite as beautiful from bud to bloom to setting seed. I love them, their wild weediness, and pale, frond-like leaves. I love the strange hairy, deeply nodding buds that straighten up on their stems before opening blowsily into blooms of violent red, crimson crepe petals and night black centers, flamboyant as flamenco skirts.

I love the way the blossoms fade and the petals fall away leaving the green seedpod with its velvet striped cap and a skirt of dark, drooping stamens. I love the stark beauty of the seedpods straight against the sky, their delicate architecture and the promising dry rattle of the tiny round seeds which fall from the pods like pepper from a fairy sized shaker.

They always seem to me to be half magical, loaded with stories, symbolism and legend. And yet somehow oblivious to it all  - weedy yet elegant, ephemeral yet triumphant. Unlikely, insouciant, harlot queens of late spring.