Peonies by Jeanne LohmanGrandma called them pineys, and I don't know why.They smelled so good, the full lush petalscrowded thick, the whole flower heavy on its stem, the leaves dark and rich as shade in Chatauqua Woods where each spring I hunted for violets.
What could there be to pine for on this earth? Now I think maybe it was Missouri she missed, and maybe that was what somebody she knew called peonies there, before she travelled to Ohio, a sixteen year old bride whose children came on as fast as field crops and housework.
In her next lifetime I want my grandmother to walk slowly through the gardens in England and Kyoto. I want to be there when she recognizes the flowers and smiles, when she kneels and takes the pineys inHer flowers saved her, the way they came up year after year and with only a bit of carelived tender and pretty, each kind surprising,keeping its own sweet secret: lily-of-the-valley, iris, the feathery leaved cosmos, lilacs in their white and purple curls, flamboyant sweet peas and zinnias, the bright four o'clocks and delphinium, blue as her eyes, and the soft peony flowers edged deep pink.
Copyright Jeanne Lohman from Calls from a Lighted HouseFifthian Press 2007
During the iris extravaganza the peonies have come and gone quietly.
There are many peonies in my garden. This is my favorite, the ScarletO'Hara Peony. It is embedded from my childhood, complete with the antsthat come with it when its cut flowers are brought in to the kitchen table.
For fun we just got an ENO hammock. It is made of parachute nylon and comes in great colors. It packs easily for travel and has sturdy ATLAS straps for hanging it non-invasively from trees.
It is very comfortable. Has anyone seen my wife?
