On an icy day last February, I stood shivering in my garden scattering the tiniest black seeds over the snow. Then, because it was February, I ran back inside and dreamed of the thaw.
For years now this has been my little ritual to beat the winter blues. It helps me to imagine all those seeds cracking open. Slowly mixing their thin roots with mud and light till they transform into blooms.
When June comes, I go out as the sun is just coming up and watch them break free from their shells. I’m astonished for days by the crepe petals that flutter in the breeze like fairy gowns.
I sip my coffee and just stare and stare at them. The light. The shadow. The colors. The crown like centers. The magic of butterflies that come to feed. The whisper of danger from their opium histories. It’s like I just want something of their allure to seep in and become part of me.
They barley last a day then decide to go nude and drop all their petals. Leaving behind sculptural pods that dry into rattles filled with next years seeds. And, so it goes…
I often get asked where I get my inspiration for art. I’m never exactly sure what to say because the whole of it is a mysterious thing! I know that it’s some sort of swirl of emotion and energy…And, it’s from here in my “Little Eden” where seeds make magic.
Want more poppy inspiration? Check out last year’s poppy post>> here
“You have to keep breaking your heart till it opens”
“I’ve always loved the definition for contemplation: “a long, loving look.” And when you take a long, loving look anywhere, you feel more bonded with whatever you’ve looked at. ”
