Poppies bring memories of the WWI poem by John McCrae, In Flanders Field.
Or Perhaps they remind us of a deep sleep in The Wizard of Oz, or of heroin.
This shot was taken on a roadside in Turkey, where the poppies blow wild.
Down the road was a remarkable personal memorial – a grave itself serving as flower garden.
Taken along the road near Vizirkopru, Turkey, outside of a very small village.
My husband and I had a world class experience in a photography competition, www.dask.org.tr (let Google translate).
Once upon a time I managed 4 active historical cemeteries in Columbus, Georgia. On a field trip to Atlanta’s historic Oakland cemetery, I studied the concept of graveyard gardening. Their project brought great beauty to memorials and even to abandoned gravesites. When I am remembered, I hope it will be for the trees I planted in my yard and along the drainage “crick” banks. But they may or may not survive. We plant, and caretake, and let go. Meanwhile, I read labels on the memorial trees planted at the First Unitarian Universalist Church of Nashville, gathering data for their history book. How lovely, thoughtful, and nigh eternal. A living plant can serve as a comfort, a memorial, or a defiant, defining moment.