Poppies

The only way to find what you seek is to know what you seek.

(Or at least what it looks like.)

Sounds a little Zen-like or fortune cookie-ish, doesn’t it? Nevertheless, I had one of those moments of clarity the other morning — Friday, ’round about 7:15, on my way to work. I dread Fridays, too, and overall: This one was no different. Except for that minute or two of figuring out something.

It was “AFOG,” as Roommate might say: “A Freaking Opportunity for Growth.”

Now that was special.

Anyhoo, a few years ago, sometime in mid-March, I was in a pretty bad state of mind. I had just returned from a trip that was designed to allow me to clear my head/seek contrition (in other words, I basically just took off driving) — destination unknown ... mostly ’cause I knew I couldn’t go where I wanted/thought I needed to go, for that would not have remedied anything.

A thousand or so miles and a couple of days later, I found myself right back home again.

“I didn’t expect to see you back here so soon,” said The Lovely, to which I replied: “I got sick of my own company.”

A couple of days later, we packed up and headed to Huntsville, Alabama, which is a pretty nice road trip, from here: About a five-hour drive, mostly interstate, with some decent scenery, mostly from about Nashville, Tennessee, on.

When we started getting close to Alabama, something in the median of the interstate caught my attention: Poppies. Patches of bright-red poppies, every few miles.

They were beautiful.

And to say that I needed to see something beautiful right about then would be a colossal understatement.

It was during that trip that I decided poppies were among my favorite flowers. (And it didn’t hurt, either, that poppy seeds AND the character Poppy figure prominently in a few episodes of Seinfeld!)

: )

Since that time, I have attempted to grow poppies a couple of times. With no success. Go figure.

And I have looked for poppies. Always for the red ones like I saw en route to Huntsville a few years ago. I will see a flash of red in a yard or a field and give a double-take, but no. It’s usually a geranium ... and nothing against geraniums, but: They’re not poppies.

This is where Cher (a.k.a. coldteablues) comes in.

On Thursday, she posted some poppy pictures in The Orchard, along with a link to her photos. And they are lovely! And they are orange and, obviously, a different kind of poppy than the kind I have been seeking, but: They are poppies!

: )

I really adore her photos. And, for whatever reason, I became determined to find some poppies like those. SOMEwhere.

So, on Friday morning, I decided to stop by the ATM on my way to work. I drove down Maple, a street that I usually drive on at least twice a day, and when I got to the house on the corner where I took pictures of blue irises the other day: Poppies! Just like the ones Cher photographed!

Earlier in the week, I had not even known they were there. Mostly ’cause I had no idea what I was looking for.