I said, "Old man, don't bother me... poppies... poppies..."

Last Sunday my girlfriend and I headed all the way out to the high desert community of Lancaster in search of the state flower of California, the Golden Poppy. The Antelope Valley California Poppy Reserve is just outside of town, and typically at this time of year the fields are supposed to be a sea of vibrant orange blooms, but this is what we saw when we got there:





Pretty in a way, but not poppies.

However, if one looked closely, they could be found:

The wind was, as promised, wicked strong. Poppies have the good sense to close up their petals in such weather. We humans... not so much.

[Bonus points if you can identify from where the line I used as the title comes.]