So said the gray wooden sign guarding the fairy ring in the Enchanted Woods at Winterthur Garden.
Of course, with an invitation like that, who could refuse? Certainly not my 7 year-old-son Max who jumped right in the center of the mulch-covered ring, igniting misty sprays of water from the dozen knee-high mushrooms encircling the ring. To his delight, he found the motion sensor that turned the mists on and so he jumped in and out for nearly an hour, full of giggles and laughs. And sopping wet by the end.
With a rare Saturday free and feeling spontaneous, I took the kids to Winterthur last week, less than a two hour drive from our house. I told them that we were going to the fabled Enchanted Woods, a magic fairy-tale garden where generations of du Pont children had played in the woodlands and hills.
Truthfully though, I was on a mission. I wanted to see the tree peonies in full bloom but I didn't tell Max and Molly that. The tree peony display in my garden was far too short this season, no thanks to some unseasonably hot days, and my soul needed more. Confession time: I'm a tree peony addict. Tree peonies in bloom are absolutely spectacular and every garden should have at least one. Yes, it's a short bloom season in the big picture but what they do during those fleeting days of bloom is glorious. They are, without a doubt, the most graceful and vibrant residents in my sunny perennial bed. I've got six tree peonies now, from the palest of pinks to the deep purple color of grape Nehi soda and several colors in between.
And I'm not shy about admitting that the oldest girl in the bed is almost 10 years old and I bought her for $9.99 when Southern States went out of business. Tree peonies now cost upwards of $100 depending on where you get them so I especially relish the hot pink blossoms that unfurl every spring like a flamenco dancer's ruffly skirt. The synergy of the petal's super delicate, paper tissue-like fragility combined with the bursts of intense colors is daring.
Back to my visit to see the famed tree peonies at Winterthur, I was crestfallen to discover that most of the woody shrubs were just about to burst from their buds. In another day or two, especially with some warmer temperatures, they would be open for business, rewarding visitors with their great looks and demeanor.
The azaleas, however, were au point, lighting up the woodlands with shouts of coral, salmon, pale pink, fuschia and white. The woods were fragrant, thanks to the sweet smells of the many spring ephermerals in full bloom. Trilium, Jack-in-the Pulpits, hyacinths, Spanish bluebells and even some late blooming daffodils filled the air with the smell of springtime. Ferns unfurling their fronds mingled with reincarnated hostas and pachysandra. A sea of green on the forest floor was the perfect backdrop for the azaleas' riot of color.
As we were leaving the gardens, I read a quote by Elisabeth Lawrence: "There is a garden in every childhood, an enchanted place where colors are brighter, the air softer and the morning air more fragrant than ever."
Indeed, this was our exact experience on a late April day. What a treat to know that my children and I could both find immense pleasure in the magic that is Winterthur, enjoying our own unique interpretations and experiences of nature's palette and grace.
Thank you, Mr. du Pont, for your vision and generosity. I am so grateful for your botanical interests and your wish to share them with others.
