(Thunder flowers)
“When thunder clouds appear, quickly burn your thunder flowers"*
I won't follow this old saying, because I want those thunder clouds
to give rain. I study the cloudy sky and search for any cauliflower
forms. Dark masses of tiny water parts hang around the mountain tops,
but will they release that much wanted water from heaven? The sun
still knows where to find the cracks and keeps on shining.
The
island is pretty dry. The oceans of flowers have started to wither,
making orchid hunters desperate: where to find those orchids which
people have flown to Lesvos especially in order to see? They will now
have to do with the thunder flowers, who shamelessly and dazzlingly
have gathered in masses and shine as red as any tulip field in
Holland. Thunder flowers do not care about water or good soil: they
flourish in poor and churned soil. This way they survived the
battlefields of the First World War.
It
was the Goddess of the Earth, Demeter, who created this sleeping
flower*. She preferred to sleep throughout the six months of the year
that her daughter Persephone had to spend with Hades in the
Underworld. The God of Sleep Hypnos and his son Morpheus also used
this flower to close their eyes and to dream. The sleeping flower has
remained along with its derivatives, like opium, a symbol for sleep,
and to help people have sweet dreams or lead them to damnation. When,
like Alice in Wonderland, you pass through a field full of sleeping
flowers, you'd better not lay down in that bright red world: you
might risk an eternal sleep.
Sorcerers
loved these witch flowers*, because they had so many properties to
make healing concoctions. Their medical applications are many: used
not only to have a good sleep, but also to fight a sore throat or
cramps. And their tiny moon blue seeds, known from the tasty German
or Swiss rolls, contain rare minerals and vitamins.
Had
the soldiers in the First World War known this, they would have all
become addicted to the witch flower. There were so many. Especially
in Flanders, the poppies spurted out of the bomb and grenade-churned
battlefields and thus became symbol for the lugubrious battle that
took place there. Thanks to a poem about those blood red papavers
(John
McCrae: In Flanders Fields),
many a veteran now wears a red poppy. Be aware: no real ones. As soon
as you pick a poppy, its fragile petals become as free as a bird and
whirl in all directions.
If
you still intent on gathering poppies, take note: in England they
believed that when you picked them, you could cause a thunderburst.
While in Belgium, they believed that when you burned thunder flowers,
you could shoo away those nasty thunderstorms. In fact, the real
flower closes its petals when the rumbling begins and the Heavens
threaten to weep.
While
I watch intently to see if the poppies are going to close their
flowers or not, I pick some petals. I read somewhere that children
used to lay a folded poppy petal on their hand and when they slapped
it, it gave a loud clapping sound. The only sound I heard was that of
skin to skin. I probably need more exercise. It is said that the
Dutch name for a Poppy, klaproos
(literally
translated as clap rose), comes from this children's game. Other say
the name klaproos
comes from the Poppies' rattling seed pods.
Lesvos
should rattle its clouds more often so that the plants, especially
the olive trees, get enough to drink. Otherwise the island will get,
besides the economic problem that has been enlarged by the absence of
a large percentage of the tourists, a new problem. The poppies can
shine as brightly as they want, but if the island doesn't get serious
showers or as many tourists as there are poppies in the fields, I am
afraid that many an islander is going to need sleeping flowers in
order to rest at night.
*(In
Holland there are different synonyms for a Poppy (klaproos),
like donderbloem
(thunder flower), slaapbol
(sleeping flower) and kollenbloem
(witch flower).
(With
thanks to Mary Staples)
©
Smitaki 2016
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