The roses all chose me at some point, and now choosing them for color (and heart), couldn't be more fun.
It was a good place for getting lost in, a city no one ever knew, a city explored from the neutral heart outward, until after many years, it defined itself into a jumble of clearings separated by stretches of the unknown, through which the narrowest of paths had been cut.
V. S. Naipaul
The poppy seeds remind me of the seeds ready for gathering in the garden now- orlaya, nigella, California poppy. . .