It always seemed to me that the herbaceous peony is the very epitome of June. Larger 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.
We are at the end of our peony season here. They bloomed late and were frankly not quite up to part thanks to an abundance of rain in June, but no matter; they are beloved when they bloom.
Much as I love them in their glory, I admit to a fondness for them in their spectacular decline; they are the Miss Havishams of my garden and a wonderful reminder that not all that is beautiful in this world need be shiny and new. I leave them about until the last petal has fallen.
We seek to copy nature in how we dress, how we decorate our homes, and this seems especially true with respect to peonies. It is all about pale layers of gossamer thin silks and cottons, all trying to recreate the divinity that is a peony.
There is something soothing about piles of linens at the end of a day (all sources Pinterest)
And we love to dress like flowers for bed or for our big day:
And who can blame us? I for one would love to be able to go back in time and deck myself out like my favourite flower...
Am I the only one that keeps their flowers past their prime? Do tell!
I am learning all kinds of technical things that I will be sharing soon - and such is my Saturday! Hope you all have a wonderful weekend. Stay safe out there!