Pausing to Smell the Peonies
I recently watched Remarkably Bright Creatures and was charmed by the relationship between Tova and Marcellus, a male octopus. Sally Fields and her digitally created counterpart (who was voiced by Alfred Molina) did a wonderful job bringing Shelby Van Pelt’s beguiling book to life. Can humans really form strong attachments to non-human’s I pondered as the credits scrolled up the screen. We certainly manage to do so with our pets. According to Forbes, Americans spend over $135 billion a year on pet expenses. While Marcellus was not Tova’s pet, their emotional connection was at the heart of the story.
I’ve formed a bond with a pack of peonies. Obviously not as intense a connection as with a Houdini-like octopus, but nevertheless an attraction. And, I have my pet to thank for this newfound relationship. We lost access to a yard when we moved into our condo in Evanston. Now Rosie gets four walks a day and I’m on leash for two of those outings. My peony bush is perfectly positioned on our walking route for a potty break. As Rosie sniffs and squats, I sniff and admire.
I first spied them as buds, early on in their flowering career.
As a newly transplanted northern by way of Florida, I had no idea what this budding blossom might hold. So I waited and watched. Patience doesn’t tend to be one of my strong suits, but nature is impervious to pushy people. So, from the get-go this friendship was already teaching me life lessons.
A weekend in Springfield provided a reprieve from dog walking but also meant I was absent for the moment when my peonies unfolded from their buds revealing their magenta magnificence. Apparently, this breed of peonies was christened Dr. Alexander Fleming by a Dutch breeder to honor the monumental medical achievements of the man who discovered penicillin.
Dr. Alexander Fleming
I was so captivated I returned at dusk with my iPhone set on “night mode” to capture this image.
Hardly a difference between “portrait” and “night mode” images.
My pack of peonies are in their final stage of floral development, a stage called senescence, when their color fades and petals wither and shed, returning its nutrients back to the soil. The gift that keeps on giving.
I enjoyed pausing and appreciating nature’s art. Maybe pausing is the definition of a happy retirement. We spent the first 70 years of our lives learning life lessons that enabled us to survive. It’s in the second half of our lives when the life lessons teach us about living. My relationship with the peonies wasn’t as grand or improbable as a relationship with an octopus. But my spirit was enriched for a few minutes each day as I walked past these pretty pink peonies. My Second Half of Life mission is to be aesthetically nourished as often as possible