We cherish too, the Poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led,
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies
The custom of wearing a red poppy on Memorial Day evolved.
My beds of poppies bring memories of a special WWII veteran to my husband and me. They are from seeds saved by my late father-in-law. A couple of years ago I found the seeds in my mother-in-law’s refrigerator, stored in a medicine container. It was labeled “Dbl Pink Poppies, Sp. 88. “Yes” my mother-in-law confirmed, they had been in the refrigerator for 20 years and yes I was welcomed to them. Both of us doubted they would germinate. I was thrilled that they not only germinated, but thrived. What a treasure! Some are single, some are double (kind of ruffled,) some are shades of pink and some are shades of coral. This year there was even a lavender one. Each year I save the seeds, plant some and pass some to friends.
I didn’t get a chance to really know my father-in-law as he passed away away shortly after Randy and I married. However, as I use his gardening tools and reference books, I feel connected. With ferns, mums and poppies from his garden, the spirit of Everett Janne is alive in my garden.