Gardening with Margaret Matthews
Red poppies — enduring symbol of peace and war
by Margaret Matthews
Earlier this year I visited the National War Memorial in Canberra and, as always, looked for my brother’s name on the Roll of Honour. There were some of the familiar red paper poppies next to his name. I wondered who had put them there, as I knew no relatives had been there recently. It is 56 years since my brother died. I looked at the other visitors nearby and saw several young people with poppies, searching for names on the Honour Roll.
I still don’t know who remembered my brother, but I do know that more people, and especially young people, are paying tribute to those who died, and that the red poppy is still as powerful a symbol as in the days when it mingled with the blood of soldiers on the fields of France in the 1914-18 war, and became universally known as the Flanders poppy.
In a few days time, on 11 November, it will be Armistice Day, and this year, with the dreadful conflicts that are going on throughout the world and especially in our own region, the red poppy has a special significance.
The field, corn or Flanders poppy, is understandably considered a pest by farmers of Europe as it competes for space on their fields. It is known by its detractors as redweed, canker or headache. In the time of the Impressionist painters, fields of poppies were popular as a subject. On a memorable train trip from Madrid to Paris, I recall we passed a field of poppies which seemed like a sheet of crimson silk. The train passed in a flash, but left me with an enduring image,
The botanical name of the Flanders poppy is Papaver rhoeas, and there is evidence that this poppy existed in ancient civilisations. It has been discovered in the tombs of Egyptian mummies where it was used in funerary garlands. It is believed to have arrived in Britain on the mud-caked boots of Roman soldiers. Floral engravings by Pierre Valent reveal that field poppies grew in the Royal Gardens of France in 1808, and William Cobbett, 18th century English essayist, wrote of "that pernicious European weed that ruins the barley and frequently makes fields the colour of blood".
The first artificial red poppies were made by disabled ex-servicemen in Britain after the First World War, and they are still made and sold in all Commonwealth countries on Armistice Day. In Australia, they raise funds for Legacy.
There are many other members of the poppy family suitable for gardens and they are beginning to regain popularity after falling into disfavour through the bad image given to the opium poppy, Papaver somoferum.
Shakespeare’s character Iago, in the tragedy ‘Othello’ immortalised the opium poppy with the lines:
Not poppy, nor mandragora,
Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,
Will ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep
Which thou ow’st yesterday.
And Keats, in his ‘Ode to Autumn’ wrote: "drowsed by the fume of poppies".
"Drowsy syrups" and "fumes" are more romantic names than are given to the source of opium today.
Iceland poppies (Papaver nudacaule) make a great contribution to the garden as a bedding plant or cut flower. They need a sunny, well-drained position. They are available as seeds and more frequently now, as seedlings. They come in a lovely range of colours: in shades of pink, yellow, cream and white. The Alpine poppy (Papaver alpinum) is a small species suitable for rock gardens.
Seed of the Flanders poppy is available from Diggers Seeds in Dromana, and possibly from other seed outlets. Once you have them, they will self-seed each season.
On Armistice Day our thoughts turn to the men and women who gave their lives in the many wars during this and past centuries, and because we now embrace so many cultures, we should also involve those of other countries to share the day with us. Many readers will remember the following poem, which was quoted in school assemblies on Armistice Day.
In Flanders fields the poppies blow,
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place, and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly.
Scarce heard among the guns below.
We are the Dead, short days ago,
We lived, saw dawn, felt sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our battle with the foe,
To you, with failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die,
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
John McCrae (1915)
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