My poppies

When I got back from my lovely holidays on Monday, there was a huge poppy in the front garden.

I am a fan of poppies generally, but I was excited about this one in particular because it grew from a set of runty little root cuttings that I planted last year. They came from B&Q -- it took me a while to realise that B&Q is possibly not the best place to buy top quality plants -- with a hosta and a dicentra spectablis which both died immediately.

But two of the four poppy root cuttings made it, and by far more luck than judgement are also well placed in the garden, in front of a rose which hasn't flowered yet and bearded irises which have just finished.

Oriental poppies are splendid things. The buds are big, tight and furry (like puppies' testicles, said Roger), and then overnight they pop open into huge flimsy blowsy flowers in an almost impossible shade of red.

Now there are six, and there are another six at least to open. I have been taking photos of them next to my head to show how big they are. The world is a better place for them.

joella