Today I found a sea of pink poppies just growing wild outside my door. It was like finding treasure where I had not expected it. Pink poppies! One of my favourite kinds of flowers, in one of my most beloved colours. A colour I had never seen them in before.
They set me thinking. What is it that fascinates me about poppies? What makes them so beautiful?
They are feeling, ephemeral, ethereal.
You cannot pick them with your bare hands, or they will wither and disappear where you stand.
And that’s what makes them so magical: they breathe a semblance of the unearthly, of the beyond. They are not of this earth. They cannot be grasped. They are like the flowers of heaven.
Not despite, but because of their transient nature and earthly frailty they whisper to us of eternal beauty. The beauty of the beyond.