FRENCH WORD-A-DAY

Hello all - just love Kristin's Blog, don't you?
I used to live at an ancient house in Brisbane, and poppies came up in the garden every spring. The dear lady who owned the house - long dead now - told me that when one of her relatives - wish I'd paid more attention to the details - came back from WWI in France, the family he billeted with there had filled his pockets with Flanders poppy seeds, which he planted. It's a lovely story, and I hope it's true, and that those lovely red poppies are still blooming there at Teneriffe House.

Salut, great post and a great picture. Last year, when I was in France for the Rugby World Cup, I had a chance to go to the Ardennes, where I have a friend who lives near St. Diziers. Patrick took me to Verdun, which was my first time there. It's a very beautiful, yet melancholy place around Verdun. It's a very sobering thing to go to the Ossuary, were you have the bones of thousands of unknown French and German troops intermingled. I also had a chance to go to the American Cemetery near Verdun. One of the things that I never forgot was seeing the cross marking the gravesite of an American soldier that was dated 10 November, 1918-they day before the armistice was signed. One day too late for this poor soldier and his family. As an Air Force and Army Reserve veteran, Veteran's day is very much a day of quiet reflection for me. It's kind of a reality check before the fun of Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Flanders poppies (Papaver Rhoeas) are also my favorite flowers. Too bad it isn't growing wild here in Colorado, like it does in France and Hungary.

Smokey in a field of poppies: Don't hurry, don't worry, and don't forget to smell the flowers along the way. This IS Smokey R Dokey all over, isn't it? I loved the photos! Thank you, Kristin!!! (PS: Do you think it's the least bit possible that the pollen from poppies gives Smokey a little psychological "lift?")

Your posts are always a bright spot in the day. I hope you can put some color pictures in your next book (I know it's expensive) but your colors are so enlivening...Best wishes from Redondo Beach

I remember as a girl giving money to old men who looked worn and sad and poorly dressed. They gave me, in return, sad, red, crepe-paper corn poppies which seemed to disappear. I always thought how important this was for me to do yet I never knew why until I just read your post. Thank you.
I wasn't born until 1944; my father was a ship's surgeon for two troop transport ships in the South Pacific. I love the idea and your photograph of the poppies...and how they grew, like blood, from the "disturbed Earth."
I wonder what was born from the disturbed Sea?

Thanks. Always a day of memories and thanksgiving. My brother and only sibling was a suvivor of the Bataan Death March and 3 1/2 years a prisoner of the Japanese. Vive La France, la Belle France.