Those who tire quickly of endless flower photos will likely abandon me through the summer.
Flowers, cultivated and wild, have captivated me since childhood.
The 12 years in arid Wyoming have made me more appreciative of the relative success of a flower garden in a land where it rains.
Each opening poppy charms me as much as did the first of the season.
Frilled petals emerging.
The first of this color to bloom.
I'm reminded of my grandmother's garnet ring.
This was an appealing moment in the blooming of the poppy with the green "cap" not quite forced off by the expanding of the bud.
The poppies are at their best in the dewy morning hours before the heat crisps the petals.
This has been the most prevalent color to date.
This one opened on a shorter stemmed plant.
Beautiful for only a few hours.
The petals were curiously cupped on this one.
I love the smudgy dark blotches.
Bursting at the bud.
A new color and form waiting for me this morning.
The dazzling face of the poppy.