My peonies are in bloom. Well, they were in bloom before the weekend storm came in. Now their fragrant petals are scattered all over the yard.
Peonies always remind me of my Grandma Jewkes.
My Grandma had a huge mound of peonies in her front yard. Because they lived next to the neighbors' on the corner, the peonies created a sort of barrier between the East side of their front yard and the neighbors' side yard.
Every spring those peonies would bloom. Big, beautiful, fragrant blooms of deep pink.
And then the grandkids would find them.
Growing up
it became a tradition that we attempted to be the grandkid who could
jump over the mound of peonies - which had to be at least 3 feet tall -
without knocking off any of the petals. Sometimes we could talk my Dad
into jumping the peonies too. My Grandpa would come out and yell at us
to stop jumping over them because it was going to knock all the petals
off {and peonies don't last long anyway}, but Grandma always let us. I'm
pretty sure Grandpa was just teasing us because he always smiled as we
tumbled over them. Except when we really turfed it and kicked more than
just the petals off.
It seems fitting that my peonies bloom near Mother's Day each year. They
remind me of one of the most selfless, humble, loving, amazing women I
have ever had the privilege of knowing. I miss my Grandma. I wish she
was here to talk to, to watch her lick her fingers while she cooked a
gourmet meal, to sit and stitch with, to go shopping with {while Grandpa
sat in the car waiting for us}, or to watch her read Gone With the Wind sitting in her favorite chair in her robe.
I loved those peonies.
