The Artist’s Poppies

I wait for them every spring. Sometimes there are hundreds. Other years there are dozens.

I dread the spring there are none. I hope I never see it.

Bill Troutman gave me these seeds decades ago.

His stand of them was right next to the street. The blooms were all doubles back then.

Over the years, single blooms started appearing. Now, there are mostly singles.

I have tried to save the seeds of the doubles over the years, but I do not know that it matters.

I feel responsible for saving his poppies. Plants are a responsibility, so is land.

Humans tend to see everything as a possession with a dollar value. There will always be money.

The artist is long gone. All that remains are his paintings and his poppies.

They are both valuable beyond measure to me.


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