Confederate Rose

I don’t have any poppies in my garden so took a picture of one of the Confederate Rose blooms instead

I was telling my sister today, that having lived in Canada & Scotland, I really miss the fact that here in the States, things don’t stop for that moment of silence at 11 am. Things go on just as normal.

I miss that, whether at school or in the grocery store people stop what they are doing and observe the moment of silence. As do the TV & radio stations. It just goes unnoticed here.

I know I tell story every year but every November 11th, I think back on my fifth grade teacher, Mr Milne reciting the poem, In Flanders Fields, and breaking down in tears.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row
That mark our place and in the sky
The larks still bravely singing fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below

We are the dead, short days ago
We lived felt dawn saw sunset glow
Loved and were loved and now we lie
In Flanders Fields

Take up our quarrel with the foe
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch be yours to hold it high
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep though poppies grow
In Flanders Fields

John McCrae