The Joys of a Blooming Peony
Gardening can teach you patience.
Who would’ve thought that the first bloom of my peony would catapult me into exhilaration. Me, who detests smudging my knees with grass stains. Me, who abhors dirt-stuffed fingernails. I am mortified by creepy creatures and squirmy worms.
I have yet to learn patience a garden can teach me. I wish all my flowers blossom at the same time. I want my calla lilies to sprout like purple fuming fountains and my gladiolas to burst into peppered blooms. Now.
AND I want them to stay bloomed. No withering, no change of season, just an orchestra of popping petals and pirouetting foliage to amuse me.
But I am content. I savour an early morning breakfast on my deck, surrounded by my annuals and succulents, overlooking my humble garden with a sturdy cedar fence separating a roaring highway at the other side.
