The opening of the first bud in the fresh dampness of spring sends tingles through the yard. Everything is eager for color and elegance.
All summer the merry jester has been hanging out at the tip, waving in the wind, slowing transforming inside.
I'm collecting these seeds--just to play with, to give them a chance, to see if there is more mystery inside like a Russian nesting doll.
Lovely
ReplyDeleteI thought so, too. Had to let you all see it!
DeletePeonies always remind me of my father; He loved them. That other "flower" is really different. Nice photos.
ReplyDeleteYes, different and charming all by itself.
DeleteI had peonies from my dad in our first garden. Some were transplanted here almost thirty years ago. Yea, peonies.
ReplyDeleteMy mother grows them, too. Seems to be a flower of memories and delights.
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