Oriental Poppies

Our old house looks out over the country road from atop a hill, as it is with many older homes.
The front lawn is a combination of mosses and weeds that competes with the struggling grass beneath the shade of several large maples and a sprawling sycamore--and usually wins.
But at the roadside, the bank is exposed to a strong southern light that bakes the southern Ohio clay--and the abuse of passersby, who see it as little more than a ditch to collect their cast off bottles or an area to pull off onto and let an oncoming car pass.
Finding something to grow here, is a challenge.

Daylilies have consumed a fair portion.
But, above them, I've cast seeds. Of all that have ever sprouted, the only surviving as plants continue to be the poppies--their loooong tap root extending deep into the bank.
Deep enough to withstand the hot sun that fries everything else.

Anticipation.

I cannot say
if I like flowers better, or the buds.
For their message is clear--a promise will be kept.



Thanks to Mrs. Nesbit for hosting ABC Wednesday!