Behold the Power of Peonies

Years ago, when my sister and I were a lot younger my sister purchased her first home. It was what I would call the perfect fixer upper, a granny house. Faded powdery blue walls  held the sooted outlines of where former pictures hung. The canary yellow kitchen still had a pie in the oven, neglected and long forgotten.  Outside rows of peonies proudly came up every May, gracing her front walkway. We would marvel every spring at the colors and the soft cool touch of their petals. Taking in the distinct scent of peonies( like a rose but yet not quite.)  A couple of giddy girls we were,  burying  our faces in  huge puffy bouquets of peonies  laughing all the way, glad that it was spring.  In this starter home she would marry and a baby named Lucy would be born,  a cat named Pumpkin would be buried  in the back yard. Walls would be painted and appliances purchased. After all was said and done the house was bought for a song and then later sold for a large profit.

When my sister moved she took some of the peonies with her, peonies are great like that, a few rhizomes and you're good to go. When she had to move yet again she once again took a few with her and set them in the ground, so as you can see these peonies have made their rounds.  When my sister moved yet another time but this time to Colorado she couldn't bare not taking any peonies with her. At the time she thought they wouldn't fair in the Colorado climate. She asked me to take some of her peonies with me.  Delighted to carry on the legacy of my sisters peonies I accepted. This is only the third year for them  here, but today a bouquet has been picked and I am rivaling in the thrill of it all.  The memories runs deep with these curious ant loving blooms, the olfactory triggers a kinder gentler time a link to the pass.  Where farmers planted rows for their wives, neighbors swapped with each other, Mothers and daughters join hands around the dinner table with a centerpiece of peonies.