"Most people in the city rush around so, they have no time to look at a flower. I want them to see it whether they want to or not."

--Georgia O'Keefe

I second that emotion.

They've started flowering now, my oriental poppies. O'Keefe really captured the brazen, over-the-top sensuality of these plants. I wish the photograph had scanned better, that you could see how the black center of the poppy evokes ... well, one of the wonders of art is that it is open to interpretation.

If I was to try to find a human equivalent for my poppies, I guess I'd say they're the Mae Wests of the flower world. I can just hear them purring in La West's voice, "Hey, big boy, are those stamens in your pocket, or are you just very happy to see me?"

As you can see, I don't grow the somewhat more subtle single flowered poppies. Oh no, I grow the ever so much more garish double ones.

Sometimes nothing exceeds like excess and I love the ka-POW of these things. (Cue the soundtrack to the old Batman show from TV, the one with Adam West.)

If they lasted more than a week to nine days I'd probably rethink this, it's a pretty neon colour to be looking at long term, but they're one of those "here today, gone tomorrow" perennials. As I spend the rest of the season weeding them and beating off the other, longer flowering plants that want to take over the poppy's corner of the garden, I sometimes wonder why I bother with all this work for such a fleeting show.

They remind me every year with a quick smack upside the head when they bloom. I'm a sucker for a slutty flower.

Wish I'd done a better job of focussing when I took this picture, you could see the lovely furry pods that encase the flower before it blooms. They're very soft to the touch and look so gorgeous in the morning when the sun first hits them and illuminates the tiny bits of dew caught at the tips.

It's quite a sight to watch one suddenly pop and then, over a few hours, this huge flower unfurls just as a parachute does from its pack ? you look at it and wonder how it ever got folded into such a tiny place.

As if the poppies starting to bloom wasn't excitement enough (be still my beating heart) well, the local asparagus is in season! Hurrah, huzzah and many other sounds of unrestrained glee!

I picked through and got myself a pound of the tiniest stalks I could find, none of them any thicker than a pencil. Tonight I'll stir fry them in butter, garlic and slivered almonds until they're tender but still kind of crunchy, a lovely, rich emerald green. Throw some teensy tiny baby potatoes into the BBQ, add some chicken boobs a little while later ... oh bliss, oh thrills, and a couple of raptures.

Yep, another whirlwind day.