Remembrance Poppies
This is my “poppy vase.”
It’s just a few twigs from a friend’s curly willow tree, and I was visiting when she was pruning it, and grabbed a bunch of twigs. I’ve always loved their twisty elegance.
For years I had them sitting in the entrance hall of my old house, and around Christmas time I’d decorate them with a few ornaments and some tinsel.
But one year someone came to the door in November selling remembrance poppies. I always buy one — both grandfathers, my dad, all my uncles and my godmother all went to war — she was a volunteer nurse.
But I wasn’t going out that day, and so wasn’t going to wear the poppy, so without thinking I just twisted it around one of the twigs. And left it there.
The following year my Uncle Stan died — he’d been at war with my dad — so I bought one poppy for him, and another one for my dad, and then one for my uncle Doug who had also been in dad’s unit. And so it went on from there, with new poppies added each year.
For years the vase of twigs-and-poppies sat looking like this in my entrance hall, but in the new house I put it in the living room, and every visitor has commented on it. They hadn’t noticed it in the old house, maybe because that space wasn’t brightly lit, or probably they were too busy saying hello and arriving to notice it. But in the new house it’s in the open and much more noticeable. Some thought it was japonica (ornamental quince) at first, and I admit there’s a resemblance. I love japonica, with its elegant bare brown twigs bearing blossoms.
Do you know why red poppies are associated with Remembrance Day? It’s because after the fighting was over, wild red poppies grew in their thousands on the fields of Flanders, where so many had died, and because of this poem, written by John McCrae, who was a field surgeon during WW1.
In Flanders Fields.
by John McCrae
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
In recent years various images have been projected onto the ‘sails’ of the Sydney Opera House — generally to commemorate or celebrate some event. This was the Remembrance Day image.
Your arrangement is lovely, Anne, and even more so because it connects you to loved ones. And the Opera House illumination is quite magnificent. In the U.S., small paper poppies used to be sold each November, but I haven’t seen them for years and have often wondered why. I would buy 3, for the brothers my father lost in WWII. I always got them from an older man selling them just outside the entrance to a tunnel – yes, the traffic was slow enough to allow such transactions! I would wind them around the stem of my rear view mirror,… Read more »
Thank you Constance. It’s a bit sad that poppies aren’t sold anymore. I suppose that the volunteers who sold them have faded. I’m glad you still have the memories.
John McCrae was Canadian. I am too. In school we had a Remembrance Day assembly every year. Leonard Cohen recites this poem beautifully. He was Canadian too.
Thanks, Ellie — yes, I probably should have said in the blog that he was Canadian. And I knew about Leonard Cohen, and a lot of other distinguished Canadians too. In general, Australians feel a certain kinship with Canadians, even though we’re hemispheres apart. The father of one of my oldest friends trained for the air force in Canada, as part of the Empire Air Training Scheme, an agreement to share in the training of air force recruits established between Britain, Australia, New Zealand and Canada in 1939. More than 10,000 Australians received their Air Force training in Canada. You… Read more »
My goodness. That made me cry for sure. It’s a gray and dreary day here in the northern hemisphere, chilly and rainy, perfect for this I suppose. The poem is lovely, though heartbreaking. I haven’t seen poppies here for a long time.
I’m surprised, Jeanette, and a bit sad that remembrance poppies aren’t seen in your neck of the woods anymore. As for the poem, it’s wonderful how it sparked a long lived and heartfelt tradition.
Love your arrangement.
Thanks, Venette.
Your post reminded me of a poppy field at the World War 1 museum in Kansas City. You walk across an elevated walkway over the poppies. It was a fitting remembrance of all who were lost in the war. I knew of the poem, but was glad to be able to read the entire poem. Thanks for the beautiful view of the Sydney Opera House.
That poppy field sounds lovely, Carolyn. There was a wooden poppy installation in the UK a while back — a field of red wooden poppies — and when it was over, people could buy one of the poppies. A friend of mine bought one.