A Perspective on Peonies

 When I first began flower gardening,

I thought there were four kinds of peonies:

white,

light pink,

hot pink,

and red.

 But I was mistaken.

Peonies actually have names,
lots of them,
quite probably hundreds of them:

Sorbet,

Shirley Temple,

Raspberry Sundae,

Feather Top,
Candy Heart,
Carol,
Dr. Alexander Fleming,
Krinkled White,
Madame Butterfly,
Bo-Peep,
Sword Dance...

Peonies are somewhat like people:
we all seem the same.

Yet, there are so many differences:

personalities,

styles,

different growth rates and bloom times,

heights and colors,
physical traits;
but also

strengths
and

weaknesses.

We're all going through life,

changing along the way.

 

 This is my favorite peony called

Coral Charm: it's a beautiful bright peach color...

 that fades each day...

 

 til it finally gets so light

that it almost looks yellow

 

before it's petals drift off in tired retreat.

One thing I feel like I am constantly learning in life

is to cease from assumption.

Assumption: BAD.

 I tend to think I'm right about something or someone

and then find out

I'm terribly wrong.

 For instance,

I ran into an acquaintance who has also gotten into

the business of a roadside market for

his home-grown plants.

 We got sharing advice and knowledge,

when he informed me that I needed to purchase

a certificate from the state to sell my plants.

 It was not a huge sum of money,

but it kept slipping my mind,

although he mentioned it to me again

about two more times after that when I ran into him,

wondering if I had gotten it yet.

Not long after, I thought of the situation,

and asked another friend

who had also started a similar business.

She gave the advice that she wouldn't pursue something like that

unless they came to you and told you it was needed.

It was just that way with this type of thing.
I have high respect for her,

 So I let it go.

One morning I heard the dog barking

and looked out to see a man with a clipboard heading toward the house,

and when I got out to the porch,

he informed me of the mentioned certificate and my need for it.

After he went about inspecting my plants

(he was very kind and almost seemed apologetic)

he handed me the paperwork,

and I handed him the check.

When I questioned him about all this,

he informed me that my business is small

and wouldn't normally be on his agenda to pursue,

but somebody had complained that I didn't have my certificate

and this forced him to have to confront me on it.

I think we may all safely assume that we know who did it.

Who else,

but this acquaintance

who had reminded me that I needed it

and had purchased his without having to be prompted?

 The anger began to mount in my soul,

not because of the cost

but because my "friend" had gotten so bothered by my lack of effort

that he had taken the time to call

and turn me in.

 I did what any sane woman would do:

I called my husband and began to spout vehemently on the phone

about what this unbelievable, unnerving mud parasite had had the nerve to do.

 My husband,

being the level-headed member of the family,

told me I needed to call and ask the "offender."
False accusation was an abhorrent situation.

Should I?

 What would I say when he admitted it?

Lots of choice things

came to mind...

but I knew that wasn't how God wanted me to act.

I knew,

but really?

What I wanted to say was bubbling on the tip of my tongue,

and what I thought I should say

was in there somewhere,

bouncing off the walls of my anger-intoxicated brain.

 I waited til calm was in my grip,

many sensible prayers later,

and then dialed the number

and

asked the dreaded question:

"Did you..."

 And the answer...

 

 does that really matter?

Should my response be any different I wonder,

if I am offended at some one's simple "betrayal" of me?

Will it do any good for me to foam

and froth,

and let the bitterness fester in my soul?

But of course,

I can't really tell you that.

Because the answer was a resounding 

"No!  Of course not,

We would never do that to you."

I knew that he didn't;
and now I felt like the mud parasite.

I had stood at the precipice of false-accusation

and now turned to see...

a garden of delicate peonies,

a myriad of shapes and colors

and different stages of change and growth in life.

And I was ever so thankful:

that I had called my husband,

and had dealt with the issues,

good or bad as they might have been...

and that I now held in my hands:

a valuable lesson in life.

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