It happens once a year.
When I was a kid, it happened right around Memorial
Day. The apple trees had just finished
their spring time bloom and we would walk out to cut the beautiful pink and
white peony flowers from the bushes planted nearby.
When Mike and I bought the Freedom Farm we acquired many
things. A shop, an old barn, an old
house with its garage, a hay shed, the big house, and an airplane hanger. A swather, a baler, two tractors, and a hay
trailer. We also bought a very old peony
bush.
Although many people might not find a peony bush to be a
valuable asset on a piece of property, this old annual flower swayed me that we
were buying the right piece of property.
It’s value is such that anyone keeping the yard is lectured on broadleaf
herbicides and other general destructive actions.
The flowers are fragile, starting out as a round, golf ball
size bud. Ants find these buds, eager to
profit from the nectar oozing from the edges of the green protective layer
around the exploding flower inside.
Folklore says the ants must be present for the flower to open, but this
is just that – folklore. The flowers
will open without the ants.
I picked my flowers on Saturday (note: almost a month after
Memorial Day!), enjoyed them with company Saturday night, and brought them home
to sit atop the counter. By Wednesday,
the tissue-like magenta petals will begin to litter the top of the island. By Thursday, most petals will have dropped and
my floral arrangement will find its way to the compost heap. I would feel badly about this pillage of
flowering mass if it was not an annual plant.
No matter how many flowers I greedily pick, that plant will be back next
year in its blooming splendor for our enjoyment.
That is, assuming no one decides to put a weed killer on its leaves.
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