When I was younger, I typically awoke to my mom saying, "Morning glory!" Actually, I think she sang it whilst I focused on maintaining a perfectly frowned morning face. It was my forties before I discovered that I could possibly be a morning person and it was in my twenties before I "got it" that morning glory wasn't just a phrase, but a reference to a....drum roll....flower.
Sometimes, the light, she burns dim.
Anyway, this morning the peonies woke up and said "Morning glory!"
These peonies are from my grandmother's batch. Which got me to thinking about just how far these peonies have traveled. I had them at hour last home, where they barely survived in all that shade, then I moved them to my mom's house while we built this home and finally I brought them here. Grandma had them at her Lake Crystal home, which means that my Grandfather probably transplanted them from the lake home. That means the root stock is at least 25 years old.
The double pinks aren't awake yet, those are my favorite peony. Oddly enough, I don't have my grandmother's favorite peonies. When we split them, all those years ago, the blooms were off and she couldn't remember which plant was the "blood red" bloom. No matter, I'm sure they're making someone else as happy as these make me.