The painting “Coquelicots” by Claude Monet is one of the things that made me fall in love with France before I ever set foot here. It’s the verge of the Belle Epoque, to be followed by Proust and Colette and Guimard’s sinuous entrances for the Paris Metro.
Poppies are the flower of May. My mom’s birthday is in May, and the one time she visited us here, was just after it. She loved poppies. Every time we saw a blazing field of them, we had to stop for a photo.
Some other people very dear to me–my aunt, my sisters-in-law–also are poppy fans. As was my grandma, who had them in her garden (and the cops came by one time to make sure she wasn’t cultivating the kind for heroin!). So in May, I get a constant, and welcome, reminder of all of them.
There’s a gorgeous field of poppies just behind our house. It has gotten redder by the day, so I keep going out for more photos.
It must be exceptional, because every time we look out the window or drive by, we see somebody who stopped to take a photo.
More than a few hauled kids over to the flowers for a dazzling background. And I saw one family lie down among the blooms for a group selfie. It made me think of the poppy field in “The Wizard of Oz”–clip here.