We can't help ourselves - we are out picking poppies almost every day. Whole fields that look like they're covered with spilled blood. Or so Colette says. Growing by the side of all the little roads around, then growing in vases in rooms all over our house. We pull the bike or the car over just to stand witness to the phenomenon. I can't imagine ever feeling unmoved by these fields of flowers.
I recently went and got Colette at school for a lunch date. As we were heading to the little village where we had decided to eat we drove past this field. Colette begged to stop to pick a bouquet for her Maîtresse. With a serious expression she worked to pick just the right ones for her beloved teacher.
Another day, another field...
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