It’s a sad time of year in human terms. The poppies have grown themselves to death. It’s hard to see, but the dead zone is covered in long spike-like seed pods, which means they haven’t actually grown themselves to death, but only reached the end of their cycle. They were little blooms along the bottom of the fence when they started, green and lush with bright golden flowers. Now they’re two feet into the sidewalk and dying rapidly. But the seed pods, not the flowers or the greenery is what it was always about. The next generation of poppies. The next abundance of surprising gold. Poppies were so plentiful that we thought they would last forever. And perhaps they will, but one season at a time. We’re a lot like flowers, all of us, though we spend our time firmly believing that we’re not. We are unique, but in actuality, only one in a very long chain of life.