Red Poppies

I loved the feel of the fresh breeze and the smell of newly harvested cornfields and the sight of the buffalo herds grazing alongside the narrow roads that led westerly to the quaint villages nestled on the slopes of the mountains. My senses were never as awakened as when I was a pillion passenger on a motorbike. For some strange reason I felt that I belonged, in a country that I had no previous history with, or thoughts of visiting before I married Fawaz and yet, it was home to me. We used to stop along the roadside and pose for photographs next to the translucent water that was trickling from newly formed ponds and beside fields of wild red poppies where the children and I would lie and cuddle and I would feel so full of love and joy. If Fawaz happened to notice any dandelions or (laboon) growing in the wild he would pullover to the side of the road and take out his knife and proceed to cut and slice the nettle type plant and eat it. He used to tell me it was medicinal and the children enjoyed their share, although I tentatively consumed a tiny quantity when I took my first bite but on future excursions I stood in line to receive my treat. Syria did not have a national flower but Syrians considered Jasmine as their national flower. Some of the native flowers grown in Syria were Hyacinths, Lebanon Cedar, Hibiscus syriacus, Cedrus libani, tulips, Damask Roses, Carnations, Cabbage Flowers and various varieties of Orchids.
The mountain range was very steep and the trees were unlike the Australian gum trees. Yew, lime and fur trees grew in the mountains. The trees were stumpier, shorter, and more evergreen than the native trees of Australia. Hawthorn bushes grew in abundance. Small villages were built high along the cliffs and the roads were treacherous to navigate. Sometimes when a car or truck passed us I could hear the rocks that were dislodged plummeting down the escarpment and I would sit frozen with fear and pray as hard as I could for a safe journey to our destination.

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