It’s been harder than anticipated to get back to writing. I blame the somnolent state of the blogger, laid waste by a general anesthetic and the drowsy lullaby of pain medication, not the tiny field of poppies growing in the back of her garden. For these are ‘Elka White’ Slovakian bread poppies (from local seed savers Adaptive Seeds), papaver somniferum, a relative to the ones that halted Dorothy and her companions on the way to the Emerald City. If I ever wake up, I’ll turn the seeds that tumble from the dried seed heads into fine Eastern European poppyseed pastries who will be forgetful of their gardener’s sleepy summer start.
Hope things will be more normal soon. It’s harder than one might expect to be laid up with all the time in the world — and unable to turn thoughts to words.