Special photo. Wanna know why? Because today I can confidently say that I am no longer scared to death that an animal is going to come creeping out in the night and bite the top of my “ready to pop” poppies right off. My vivid memory is fading. That being of the Spring morning when I anxiously awaited the “popping” of the poppy that I had received in the mail and lovingly planted from a bare root. I was dying for the poppy color to pop. After having surveyed my garden the eve before the dreaded morning, I retired for the night, confident that my poppy would be in full bloom the next day. It was that ready to pop. My one, lone, bud. The next morning I went out to check on my poppy. Surely it had popped! NOT. Instead, I was greeted by a headless green stem, sticking perfectly straight up out of my poppy’s foliage. “NO!” I screamed. I cried. Real tears. Devastated. Not. Even. Kidding. What the heck had eaten the head off of my poppy??? I cried to my husband. The old…“I have nothing that is my own in this house…NOTHING! and that poppy was mine!” I was so upset and there was no consoling me. I’ll bet my husband remembers that day. (and he doesn’t remember much when it comes to my garden.) That’s how bad I was. And so it is with cautious optimism that year after year I have watched and waited for my poppies; never letting myself believe they would really pop. Well folks, this year they have, and this is the best year for them so far! Looking back on that sad poppy-less morning today, now that I have lots of poppies popping, I am sure that I overreacted.