I Stood and Watched the Poppies Pop

April 15, 2016

Harvesting poppies, Jello Mold Farm

Harvesting poppies, Jello Mold Farm

In the greenhouses at Jello Mold Farm, poppies were starting to bloom.  Harvesting poppies was truly a race against the clock.  Dennis had to check the beds every half hour or so to see which new flowers were about to pop open, cut them before they had fully unfurled, and rush them into the refrigerator so that they would be fresh for market.

These poppies were not yet ready to be harvested.

These poppies were not yet ready to be harvested.

The minute the sepals broke open, the race was on to harvest them.

The minute the sepals broke open, the race was on to harvest them.

IMG_6631

The larger variety of poppy was the Colibri poppy. This one is a Palaver nudicaule 'Colibri Rose Intenso Salmonato'

The larger variety of poppy was the Colibri poppy. This one is a Papaver nudicaule ‘Colibri Rose Intenso Salmonato’

IMG_6667

Most of the poppies were assorted colors of Palaver nudicaule 'Champagne Bubbles'

Most of the poppies were assorted colors of Papaver nudicaule ‘Champagne Bubbles’

IMG_6656

IMG_6653

I had never realized that poppies actually pop.  And that watching them pop was a spectator sport!  I could see the flower emerge slowly over the course of 30 minutes or so, without the benefit of time-lapse photography.  These poppies actually swayed gently from time to time as the tension of the unfurling petals sought release.  It was as if these plants had souls that animated them.  Take a look:

1:46 p.m.

1:46 p.m.

1:49 p.m.

1:49 p.m.

1:51 p.m.

1:51 p.m.

2:10 p.m. (then this flower went under the knife)

2:10 p.m. (then this flower went under the knife)

1:58 p.m.

1:58 p.m.

2:01 p.m.

2:01 p.m.

2:09 p.m.

2:09 p.m.

2:16 p.m.

2:16 p.m.

They emerged like wrinkled babies, crumpled tissue-paper.

IMG_6674

How’s that for excitement!

Here’s a poem that celebrates slow moments like these.

Swift Things Are Beautiful
by Elizabeth Coatsworth, from National Geographic Book of Nature Poetry

Swift things are beautiful:
Swallows and deer,
And lightening that falls
Bright veined and clear,
Rivers and meteors,
Wind in the wheat.
The strong-withered horse,
The runner’s sure feet.

And slow things are beautiful:
The closing of day,
The pause of the wave
That curves downward to spray,
The ember that crumbles.
The opening flower,
And the ox that moves on
In the quiet of power.

 

 

Advertisements

4 Responses to “I Stood and Watched the Poppies Pop”

  1. E. Bancroft Says:

    How cool is that?!! Thanks for sharing the play by play popping. I’d love to see this — and hear it — for myself sometime. The poem is wonderfully à propos.

  2. Sherelyn Says:

    Rosemary, these poppies are positively trumphant ! Thank you for taking the time to watch them unfold and sharing your photos with the rest of us. I’m reminded of a quote from Anais Nin … “And the day came when the risk it took to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”

  3. Elisa Says:

    I didn’t know that/this! This post is fantastic! Yay excitement and new things!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: