I love poppies.

When I first started replacing lawn with garden, I had grand ideas of going completely native species. I did put many native-to-the-area plants in, but I couldn’t not have poppies.

I have Oriental, Shirley, California, and Woodland poppies.

I love all my poppies, but the Oriental poppies are the ones that have inspired today’s eloquence.

From deep green, aggressive looking, bristly plants, the flower head emerges out of the foliage looking alien and sinister. The bud will soon crack open and delicate, brilliantly hued petals will unfurl, not unlike the wings of a butterfly when it comes out of its chrysalis. The flower’s vividness against the depth of its leaves … is beautiful, fragile, simple, exquisite, arresting… The blossom gradually fades, the petals fall and the plant gives one more thing to draw the curious eye. The seed head.

I understand why Asian potters took inspiration from its shape. The cup, when people sized, calls out for you to mould your hands around it, capped with a filigree edge and saturated purple asterisk.

I am actually at a loss for words in my attempt to describe the awesomeness of what I am seeing/thinking.  It is mostly pointing, with the occasional ‘look there…’, ‘see that...’, and moments of wordless sounds.