Poppy Don’t Preach. I Like When You Call Me Big Poppy. I Luh Ya Poppy. All potential titles for this blog post. Ah, but I digress…

Dress: AQ AQ | Hat: D&Y c/o  (love this one too) | Shoes: Via Spiga c/o | Glasses: Zara (similar) | Photos:  Fred Baby

I’ve been dying to visit the poppy fields for over three years now, ever since Joy blogged this and someone commented that they were the Antelope Valley poppy fields (it pays to read comments!). Every year around April I start stalking the Antelope Valley Poppy Reserve website, with my fingers crossed for a good crop, but for three years running, no such luck.

So when Fred Baby asked last week, “How do you want to spend your birth…” before he could finish the question, “…day,” I  blurted, “POPPY FIELDS!” I’m a girl who knows what she wants and the answer was flowers.

Thousands of them.

This year — finally! — word was that there were rivers of poppies. You see, the poppies are a fickle bunch, closing at the slightest twinge of cold or wind (to this I can relate), so I wanted to get out there before it was too late.

After battling Friday LA traffic after a hectic week, and leaving about three hours later than planned, we were almost too pooped to pop(py), but then we arrived just in time for sunset to see the glittering fields of orange during the golden hour. I’m pretty sure there’s a metaphor (or three) in there somewhere.

Moral of the story: carpe diem! A local told us that this is the first good crop in five years. Pack a picnic, take a day drive out to Antelope Valley and get your poppy on. Get your poppy on. And be sure to take a spin down the Musical Road in Lancaster while you’re at it. Aren’t roadtrips the best?

Tip: The best spot for viewing the poppies is about 15 miles west of the actual Antelope Valley Poppy Reserve.

p.s. The California Poppy Festival is this weekend, just a heads up in case you don’t want to be around other people when you get your poppy on.

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