In the UK and Commonwealth Countries, the poppy will always be linked with remembrance of those in the military that laid their lives down for us to remain free. After WW1, the pounding of 1000s of tons of artillery shells and mortars disturbed poppy seeds that had laid dormant for 100s of years. They then flowered. In the UK, ploughing etc causes cycles of fields going into flower.
This field was amazing, there were also violet coloured poppies (seen a whole field of those and mistook them for linseed). That field will likely not flower again for decades.
As time goes on, the ranks of heros that fell in combat are once again joined by those that lived long lives and are sadly now leaving us. I can see them, joining up again, comrades in arms marching....ship mates sharing jokes and aircrews slipping the surly bonds once again. My Grandad is there, joined with old mates in 1986, flying long Catalina sorties with his old crew
A poem that moves me is about the Few:-
On Weald of Kent I watched once more....
again, I heard that wonderous roar...
of fighter planes...yet none were near
and all around the sky was clear...
Borne on the wind, a whisper came..
'Though men grow old...They stay the same'
Then I knew, unseen to eye...
The ageless Few were sweeping by.
Lord Balfour of Inchrye.
So a poppy, or a field of poppies sparks many emotions in me....sadness, gratefulness, inspiration, pride and wonder that God has given us such an amazing yet poignant reminder of man's follies and also the debt we owe.