In a wet year, around this time the desert becomes golden with poppies. This year, of course, I expect almost no poppies at all, in wilderness or in city yards. We’ve stopped watering our own wildflowers, which were quite lovely last year, as a water conservation measure.
Except today, when walking home, I looked down and saw this:
There’s no reason for that single poppy to be growing up through the pavement. The desert isn’t blooming, the yards aren’t blooming, and it’s not as if anyone waters the street. (Unless, somehow, there’s a broken water pipe beneath the surface–but then there’d be more growth than a single flower; desert plants hone in on moisture.)
Yet there that single stubborn poppy was, for reasons of its own.