Peony Time

This is the time of year I love most. Peonies in bloom! We moved all my peonies to our new house and late last summer I thought they had all died. Ever faithul they have returned more beautiful than ever.

Fairy Hats and All That

Little purple fairy hats I wore upon my fingertips,
green mounds of Hosta lined the sidewalk
gracing the front of a grey wooden porch
summers before school starts.

Lilacs grew into a living fence,
dividing front yard from back.
Room there to make a hidden bower
underneath outspread branches.
Lavender and white delights,
the heady fragrance of spring.
Gentle green shingles shaded my
pigtails from the sun.

Our mums never had a chance.
Replanted faithfully in the fall by my mother
each summer pulled up as weeds
by an older brother, a careless father.

Moving day: a "new" house, a new yard,
new floral fantasies: white lace spirea,
a bridal bouquet. Pretend a royal
wedding day for a princess and her prince.

Wild gold along the garden’s fence-rows,
black-eyed susans burst into my mind,
splashing sun into an autumn of discoveries.

Rhizomes of irises: I planted my first flowers,
a gift from a widow’s wonder-filled garden,
a delight for my growing horticultural eyes.

A new spring, I rejoiced in a row of bushy peonies.
These I loved on sight as each fat bud opened
into a shower of pink and white petals;
flowers for our table: extravagant and showy
in a chipped blue vase.

c. Darlene Moore Berg