{"id":14466,"date":"2016-06-15T18:58:23","date_gmt":"2016-06-15T22:58:23","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.katrinakenison.com\/?p=14466"},"modified":"2016-06-15T18:58:23","modified_gmt":"2016-06-15T22:58:23","slug":"a-bouquet-of-peonies","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/a-bouquet-of-peonies\/","title":{"rendered":"a bouquet of peonies"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"IMG_9236\"I<\/span> can\u2019t tear myself away from home these days, nor am I getting much of anything done around here. The peonies are in bloom. And I don\u2019t want to miss a moment of their brief, luxuriant season. Most mornings I\u2019m in the garden within minutes of waking, to pay my quiet respects to the outrageously generous display going outside our door . At dusk I wander, scissors in hand, cutting fragrant armfuls to carry inside. For this week only, there are peony bouquets everywhere. Every vase and jar I own is full, the air is thick with the sweet, subtle scent, and still they come, a succession of blooms. I cherish every one.<\/p>\n

\"IMG_9162\"If you were to drop by my house for a cup of tea and a chat this afternoon, I\u2019d send you home with peonies.<\/p>\n

\"IMG_9231\"But as it happens, I\u2019m here alone on this June day, typing at my little table on the porch. There\u2019s no need, and no room, for yet another bouquet in the house. And so I offer you, instead, a bouquet in words and photos. Here are my dear peonies and some lines \u2013 from poets and gardeners and ancient Chinese haiku artists — that pay them homage. Inhale deeply. Peony season, like life itself, is precious, fleeting.<\/p>\n

\"IMG_9237\"Peonies<\/strong><\/p>\n

Heart-transplants my friend handed me:
\nfour of her own peony bushes
\nin their fall disguise, the arteries
\nof truncated, dead wood protruding
\nfrom clumps of soil fine-veined with worms.
\n\u201cBetter get them in before the frost.\u201d
\nAnd so I did, forgetting them
\nuntil their June explosion when
\nit seemed at once they\u2019d fallen in love,
\nhad grown two dozen pink hearts each.
\nExtravagance, exaggeration,
\neach one a girl on her first date,
\nexcess perfume, her dress too ruffled,
\nthe words he spoke to her too sweet\u2014
\nbut he was young; he meant it all.
\nAnd when they could not bear the pretty
\nweight of so much heart, I snipped
\ntheir dew-sopped blooms; stuffed them in vases
\nin every room like tissue-boxes
\nalready teary with self-pity.
\n~ Mary Jo Salter<\/p>\n

\"IMG_9219\"\u201cThe little boy nodded at the peony and the peony seemed to nod back. The little boy was neat, clean and pretty. The peony was unchaste, dishevelled as peonies must be, and at the height of its beauty. . . . Every hour is filled with such moments, big with significance for someone.\u201d<\/p>\n

~ Robertson Davies, What’s Bred in the Bone<\/em><\/p>\n

\"IMG_9224\"By the Peonies<\/strong><\/p>\n

The peonies bloom, white and pink.
\nAnd inside each, as in a fragrant bowl,
\nA swarm of tiny beetles have their conversation,
\nFor the flower is given to them as their home.
\nMother stands by the peony bed,
\nReaches for one bloom, opens its petals,
\nAnd looks for a long time into peony lands,
\nWhere one short instant equals a whole year.
\nThen lets the flower go. And what she thinks
\nShe repeats aloud to the children and herself.
\nThe wind sways the green leaves gently
\nAnd speckles of light flick across their faces.
\nThe charms of the ordinariness soothe the threat of anxiety.
\n~ Czeslaw Milosz<\/p>\n

\"IMG_9214\"When the peonies bloomed,
\nIt seemed as though were
\nNo flowers around them.
\n~ Kiitsu<\/p>\n

\"IMG_9198\"Peonies<\/strong><\/p>\n

This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready
\nto break my heart
\nas the sun rises,
\nas the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers
\nand they open\u2013
\npools of lace,
\nwhite and pink\u2013
\nand all day the black ants climb over them,
\nboring their deep and mysterious holes
\ninto the curls,
\ncraving the sweet sap,
\ntaking it away
\nto their dark, underground cities\u2013
\nand all day
\nunder the shifty wind,
\nas in a dance to the great wedding,
\nthe flowers bend their bright bodies,
\nand tip their fragrance to the air,
\nand rise,
\ntheir red stems holding
\nall that dampness and recklessness
\ngladly and lightly,
\nand there it is again\u2013
\nbeauty the brave, the exemplary,
\nblazing open.
\nDo you love this world?
\nDo you cherish your humble and silky life?
\nDo you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?
\nDo you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,
\nand softly,
\nand exclaiming of their dearness,
\nfill your arms with the white and pink flowers,
\nwith their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling,
\ntheir eagerness
\nto be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are
\nnothing, forever?
\n~ Mary Oliver<\/p>\n

\"IMG_9228\"In the stillness,
\nBetween the arrival of guests,
\nThe peonies.
\n~ Buson<\/p>\n

\"IMG_9226\"Dusk on the flower
\nOf the white peony,
\nThat embraces the moon.
\n~ Gyodai<\/p>\n

\"IMG_9185\"Peonies at Dusk<\/strong><\/p>\n

White peonies blooming along the porch
\nsend out light
\nwhile the rest of the yard grows dim.
\nOutrageous flowers as big as human
\nheads! They\u2019re staggered
\nby their own luxuriance: I had
\nto prop them up with stakes and twine.
\nThe moist air intensifies their scent,
\nand the moon moves around the barn
\nto find out what it\u2019s coming from.
\nIn the darkening June evening
\nI draw a blossom near, and bending close
\nsearch it as a woman searches
\na loved one\u2019s face.
\n~ Jane Kenyon<\/p>\n

\"IMG_9225\"The peonies have fallen,
\nWe parted
\nWithout regret.
\n~ Hokushi<\/p>\n

\"IMG_9128\"What peonies!
\none poem per flower
\nwill not do
\n~ Ryumin<\/p>\n

\"IMG_9132\"Though mine,
\nI hesitate to pluck
\nthe peonies
\n~ Baishitsu<\/p>\n

\"IMG_9213\"Half a mind
\nto dress up and bow down
\nto the peony
\n~ Shiki<\/p>\n

\"IMG_9123\"“It always seemed to me that the herbaceous peony is the very epitome of June. \u00a0Larger than any rose, it has something of the cabbage rose’s voluminous quality; and when it finally drops from the vase, it sheds its petticoats with a bump on the table, all in an intact heap, much as a rose will suddenly fall, making us look up from our book or conversation, to notice for one moment the death of what had still appeared to be a living beauty.”
\n~ Vita Sackville-West<\/p>\n

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I can\u2019t tear myself away from home these days, nor am I getting much of anything done around here. The peonies are in bloom. And I don\u2019t want to miss a moment of their brief, luxuriant season. Most mornings I\u2019m in the garden within minutes of waking, to pay my quiet respects to the outrageously […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":15183,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[5,7],"tags":[285,337],"class_list":{"0":"post-14466","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-hearth-home","8":"category-in-the-garden","9":"tag-mary-oliver","10":"tag-peonies","11":"entry"},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/10\/600x600.png?fit=600%2C600","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14466","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=14466"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14466\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/15183"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=14466"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=14466"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=14466"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}