The Hidden Peony
We are in the middle of our Puerto Rico "wilderness" as Christie Purifoy would say (as though a "wilderness" could possibly by made of palm trees and ocean) and I find myself oft dreaming of "home". Home where the snow is. Home where the ice is. Home where the wild winds blow. I know it makes no sense.
The thing is -- when you grow up with seasons, your heart breaks when you live without them. No matter what type of paradise you might be thrown into, your soul still longs for the cycle of seasons. I long to sit inside a stone laid window, chai in hand and snow drifting down the frame like feathers off the back of a frozen goose. You think it is crazy to miss the ice, but for me the ice makes the spring all that more grand. When sand and sun are your normal, nothing seems special.
When I think about home, under those layers of ice and snow, I think about the peonies. I don't have many at our new home at Stonecrest, but I KNOW I have one. It revealed itself late last spring in a spot where I was not expecting a single bloom -- nonetheless a peony.
Do you see it? It is in there...amidst that mess of wildling green. There is also an electrical box hidden in that mess. We found it with detailed instructions from George, the previous owner (yes, the one who ran the Bed and Breakfast) and with a switch of a button the lights came alive. (See a peek at what those lights can do in this post about the driveway :)
Can you see it now?? The leaves are elongated and a bit shiny. They are a deep green compared to its neighbors on the left and the right. It is quite green compared to that thistle in the front. Up close, it is a bit easier to distinguish the leaves. Do you see them now?
I didn't.
The first thing I did when I noticed her was to dig up transplants. Typically, peonies are best dug up and divided in the fall or the very early spring, but we weren't going to be around at the right times, so I dug out divisions, carted them up to the "show" beds near the front door and watered them in. I haven't seen a sign of them yet, but I hope. I hope this spring, little red points will push out of the ground and frilly little stalks will push skyward.
PS - Yes, Mom and Dad, I am a little homesick, but nothing to worry about! We are doing fine! :)
The thing is -- when you grow up with seasons, your heart breaks when you live without them. No matter what type of paradise you might be thrown into, your soul still longs for the cycle of seasons. I long to sit inside a stone laid window, chai in hand and snow drifting down the frame like feathers off the back of a frozen goose. You think it is crazy to miss the ice, but for me the ice makes the spring all that more grand. When sand and sun are your normal, nothing seems special.
When I think about home, under those layers of ice and snow, I think about the peonies. I don't have many at our new home at Stonecrest, but I KNOW I have one. It revealed itself late last spring in a spot where I was not expecting a single bloom -- nonetheless a peony.
Do you see it? It is in there...amidst that mess of wildling green. There is also an electrical box hidden in that mess. We found it with detailed instructions from George, the previous owner (yes, the one who ran the Bed and Breakfast) and with a switch of a button the lights came alive. (See a peek at what those lights can do in this post about the driveway :)
Can you see it now?? The leaves are elongated and a bit shiny. They are a deep green compared to its neighbors on the left and the right. It is quite green compared to that thistle in the front. Up close, it is a bit easier to distinguish the leaves. Do you see them now?
I didn't.
I must admit I had NO idea it was there until I saw THIS.
Quite hard to miss when a bush erupts into gorgeous deep red bloom, isn't it?
The first thing I did when I noticed her was to dig up transplants. Typically, peonies are best dug up and divided in the fall or the very early spring, but we weren't going to be around at the right times, so I dug out divisions, carted them up to the "show" beds near the front door and watered them in. I haven't seen a sign of them yet, but I hope. I hope this spring, little red points will push out of the ground and frilly little stalks will push skyward.
I hope the hidden peony will be SEEN now and celebrated.
I hope that the beauty found in the wild will come closer to home.
I hope I will finish my time in the wilderness with grace and patience.
I hope. I hope. I hope.
PS - Yes, Mom and Dad, I am a little homesick, but nothing to worry about! We are doing fine! :)
