Etsuko came into the room.

"What is that flower Mother?" She pointed at the flower in the alcove.

"A poppy."

"I think you should take it away."

"Why?"

"Look at it ~ it sucks you up inside it."

"I see what you mean." The child had a point. Sachiko herself had been feeling strangely oppressed by something in this sick room, and, without being able to say what it was, she could not help thinking that the cause was right before her eyes. Etsuko had put her finger on it. In the fields, the poppy was a pretty enough flower, but the single poppy in the alcove was somehow repulsive. you felt as though you were being "sucked up inside it."

"I see exactly what she means. It takes a child to see what is wrong," said Yukiko admiringly. She took the poppy away and put flags and lilies in its place. But Sachiko still felt oppressed. It would be better to have no flowers at all, she concluded, and asked Teinosuke to hang a poem in the alcove, A fresh clean sort of poem.

The Makioka Sisters by Junichiro Tanizaki

Papaver orientale, the oriental poppy ~ an orange so hot one might expect it to possibly burn & blister the skin if touched. At first glance the pollen on this flower's extraordinarily decorative center (which would look quite comfortable perched on top of the satin cap of a court official in the Emperor's Forbidden City) appears to be a charcoal grey color but is in reality a smoky, deep purple.

We have to forgive poor Sachiko's somewhat peevish behavior here as the month of June is oppressively hot in Osaka & she is recovering from jaundice. While I think this just about all one could ever ask for in a poppy, she may have a point ~ it's almost too intense to look at.

Almost...