That May the peonies were my countdown—
I knew they would bloom when she did.
That heady hot spring of unfurling expectation,
of watching marching ants making their incredible journeys across Planet Peony
while I marked the days.
Oh, the heaviness in my ankles, the humidity, the wonder of my belly
swelling like a bud about to burst.
Stunning photography – beautiful words….
I love peonies.
Beautiful words and memories to have!
Love peonies. My daughter was born the day the buttercups bloomed. Buttercups brought from my grandfather’s garden in Toledo.
Do you ever call her “Buttercup”? What a sweet story. Thank you, Mary!