Poppies are for Everyone

In the small park near our flat there is a wildflower meadow, about 8m square, which is now full of Shasta daisies and poppies.

A construction company building new apartments nearby wanted to use this land for their portacabins. There was a public outcry. For many local people, this park is their “garden”.

In these pandemic days I like to stop by the meadow and watch it abuzz with bees. It is unlikely there are beehives in streets just off the Holloway Road so I suspect these are mason bees. They are as happy as I am to be here because poppy pollen contains few fungi and the bees like to line their brick nests with poppy petals.

When I arrived there yesterday, a young couple were taking photos of their two-year-old daughter who was sitting among the wild flowers. While the delighted mum clapped her hands, their daughter scythed her arms through the poppies. Dad took photos.

Recently, I signed a petition to keep the portacabins out, and I am ashamed to say that I did nothing but stare at the destruction these parents were commemorating. I should have drawn their attention to what they were doing.

One day I hope this little girl will come across these photos and explain to her now-elderly parents that these poppies were for everyone.