poppies

 
I don’t suppose these giant orange poppies are indigenous to the UK, and I certainly can’t imagine they grew in the Forest of Arden, which once surrounded the area where the photo was taken.

Even so, the straggling clump by the gate of this traditional thatched cottage was utterly glorious and deserved a better photo than I could manage with my phone.
 
 
 
This morning when I went out I had my camera with me:

I don’t mind stopping and taking pictures of people’s gardens in broad daylight, but it seems a bit unwise to do so after dark. Instead, I’ve had to try and capture what I saw the other night in words:
 

Poppies

At midday they flamed along the garden wall,
cooling to dull embers with the dusk.
Now, under the sodium chill of street lamps,
the neighbour’s ash-blue ginger tom sprawls
among moon flowers.

 

Despite spending a few minutes playing with digital filters and colour levels, I didn’t manage to get quite the right effect for the photo; nor is “ash-blue” quite the right word for what happens to orange tones when seen under sodium light, but I haven’t yet found a better phrase.

Those who want more moon cats will find one, along with a few more flowers – this time autochthonous – in the old summer time post.