Island Life, Word Birds & Process
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It started with a single blue poppy.
One day in 1940, honeymooning in Wales for a precious weekend, Mared Pryce had gone to town in search of something special to cook for her new husband. Passing a chapel, she noticed a blue poppy growing between the cracks in the pavement.
‘In the middle of the day in summer, town’s full of people. I wasn’t daft enough to pull up a plant outside a chapel and risk the disapproval of whatever god-bothering flower arrangers might be on duty.’
‘But you went back.’ Meredith snuggled in, knowing what came next.
‘I certainly did, cariad; under cover of darkness.’
‘Like a spy!’
‘Like a thief in the night!’
She took the poppy without a second thought. There wasn’t the slightest trace of fear in her; Mared, a veteran of war-time London, hadn’t been afraid of anything and other than losing her faculties, she still wasn’t.
SNOW SISTERS ~ 21 September 2017
From Honno, the Welsh Women’s Press