oriental poppy

Yesterday I was hustling around our house, prepping the yards for a young man we hired to mow. Paul fractured his hand (more later) and isn’t able to do it himself. The grass had gotten too high for me to do it with our dull bladed push mower.

This is our first Spring in this house. There are a lot of gardens. I am a gardener, but a busy and tired one. I am trying to focus on what we see the most which is in the back. Along the side of our house I noticed an Oriental poppy growing a few weeks ago. I had planted some salmon ones at my old house which didn’t do well. The foliage was in a race to die before the flower bloomed. I wasn’t impressed. When I saw it coming up at this house I figured more of the same and didn’t keep an eye on it until yesterday.

It had bloomed and rather than the insipid salmony pink I had chosen this one was blood red. It was dark and bright at the same time. It pulled me to it. Poppies have fragile, paper like flowers. The rain had pushed this one down but it was still blooming with an aching beauty. I was filled with regret I hadn’t seen it sooner. Being a mother and a gardener helps me to transverse time. I sow things today expectant for five years in the future, but if I don’t keep my eyes open and stay present I will miss something amazing.

God, what am I overlooking on my “property”? What beauty is blooming its heart out, waiting for me to look and admire, maybe even pick? Help me to see it. And I just want to say, I am willing, I want, to flower brilliantly when no one excepting You and Paul and my children (more than enough) sees.