"In Flanders fields the poppies blow.
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below."
- In Flanders Fields, John A. McCrae
it is just that whenever i see a poppy flower, the poem comes to mind. learned this poem in grade school but never got to see a real poppy until a few years ago. then suddenly it's everywhere and in all possible colours - white, pink, orange, lilac, coral and of course the deep red. i was actually afraid of the buds when i first saw them, they're kind of creepy-ish.
this post is for our friend howard @steeler and his wife jackie down at the cape!
thank you for your kind visits and comments; they are truly appreciated. i am yet again behind in my commenting tasks but i promise to catch up again as soon as i can.
