Saturday morning; with plastic bags around our boots and rugged up in coats and beanies we trudged through the mud near Lochnager Crater looking for shrapnel and other war artifacts with Ray’s metal detector.
Everyone found something!
From grenade shells, to bullet cases: we were quite the archeologists!
The mud was thick! I was cold.
They fought in this.
They lived in this.
They died in this.
We have been laying poppies at the graves of soldiers who had become at one with this mud, united by mateship, their hearts beating with a patriotic spirit.
I did some research into the ANZAC legend of the poppy.
The poppies rose in the tumultuous turned up soil of the battlefields with far more vibrancy than in any other part of the land.
The seeds became agitated and when a solider fell on these disturbed soils, the poppies would rise.
Hope of red blooming.
The experience with Ray finding bullets was brilliant! A first hand experience.
The poppies rising from the thick mud was a beautiful symbolic sentiment.