I have been watching for and reveling in signs of Spring here in Afghanistan for the past few weeks - especially flowers. One really has to keep an open eye to see flowers in this overwhelmingly brown and dusty place. I saw a single red poppy one day on the way to drop off laundry but didn't stop to take a picture, possibly because there was only the one and I have been waiting since I hit country May of last year to get a look at the infamous poppy fields while helicoptering my way from one base to another. They are rumored to be quite lovely and I am anxious to see how that sight will compare with my fondly remembered views of Germany's patchwork springs of bright yellow rape fields stitched up next to purplish blue flax making the whole landscape appear to be some kind of giant colorful crazy quilt. Anyway, I will be flying again in about a week and remain hopeful of catching sight of poppies en masse. Meanwhile, today I caught sight of a little enclave and did in fact stop and photograph them. Of course, I understand that fields of poppies, while undeniably beautiful, are not considered a particularly good thing here in Afghanistan - by the Americans at least. Should I be fortunate enough to see any brightly blooming poppy fields this spring, I am choosing to focus on the beauty and to revel in their rich redness in what must surely be the most beige and colorless place on Earth. I shall by purpose and design leave any and all ruminations on poppy politics and poppy economics to others less thirsty for color than I.
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