The thing about peonies is they come on hard and come on strong for what feels like a significant yet maybe briefer than expected chapter. Some flowers bloom and hang for much longer and make half the impression. I’d rather be a peony.
They’re fragile. You can put them in your vase and not move them for two weeks and they’ll look exactly as they did the day you put them in water. Leading with fortitude until you touch them and they just fall apart. I’d rather be a peony.
They’re heavy. You see, too much weight from the other buds and they’re on the ground and can’t move. Or they’ve bloomed so full or are clogged with water and can’t keep going up so they start sinking down. I’d rather be a peony.
It’s over now though. Or almost. Just the last late bloomers pushing for hope but really reminding us the end is near. It’s good to be a peony.
(I’m back).