For The Love of Tree Peonies

I first fell in love with tree peonies on a visit to Winterthur about ten years ago. During that time I was working on my Certificate in Ornamental Horticulture at Longwood Gardens and would occasionally stop at Winterthur on my way home to see what was in bloom.

One May afternoon, I inadvertently happened upon the immense collection of tree peonies - all in full bloom in bright shades of red, yellow, burgundy, white, hot pink, pale pink, orange and purple - and the sight took my breathe away. I knew right then and there that I would have to add at least one tree peony to my humble garden.

The exquisite, ruffled, and taffeta-like blooms are simply show-stopping and I was thrilled to learn that despite their delicate appearance, they are actually quite hardy, low maintenance and even drought-tolerant in our area! Why many Eastern Shore gardens are not bursting with these elegant plants, I do not know but that wasn't going to deter me from my starting my own collection.

Tree peonies (Paeonia suffruticosa) are actually not trees but deciduous shrubs. They produce woody stems with dark green foliage and therefore do not dieback every fall like their cousins the herbaceous peonies. Revered as the national flower of China where they are native, tree peonies are slow growers but long-lived. It is said that some live longer than the gardeners who planted them! Tree peonies prefer rich, moist, well-drained soil in partial shade. They tend to grow 3 to 5 feet tall and wide and bloom in May for a week or two if you're lucky, depending on the weather.

I've found that in my garden, those plants living in dappled shade bloom longer than those in direct sun. A hot day of sun can scorch the long-awaited blossoms in the span of a day, shriveling them like balled up pieces of colored tissue paper. It is a painful sight indeed and explains why during that one auspicious week of bloom, I pray to the Gods for overcast cool days.

Back to starting my own collection. Soon after seeing the glorious display of tree peonies at Winterthur, I chanced upon a "Going Out of Business" sale at Southern States in Easton and discovered a tree peony for $9.99! I thought that I could invest in such an experiment for $10 because tree peonies are not cheap. They start at about $50 and go upwards from there - to even the $300 range!! So if it grew and survived, hooray for me. And if it didn't, well, it only cost $10. I'd skip a lunch out and forget about it.

I'm pleased to say that was the best ten dollars ever spent on my garden. With a label that only read "Tree Peony: Pink," this plant continues to live and thrive - some 10 years later - and it's the first of my six plant collection to bloom every spring. The pale pink blossoms make my heart soar every time, with more blooms covering the shrub with each passing year. I've even trained a clematis to grow through it so that it "blooms" all summer long.

I try to give myself a new tree peony every year, as a gift to myself. The names are sexier and the colors more bodacious (one is the color of Nehi grape soda, I kid you not!) but none give me as much satisfaction and pleasure as my first one, Southern States "Pink."

This article first appeared in the Talbot County Garden Club's horticulture newsletter, "Can You Dig It?" in the March 2012 edition.

Never Ever Step Inside a Fairy Ring

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.

Have you ever seen a cuter delivery boy?

Happy March! Rabbit, rabbit.

I have so much to write about, including the assessment of post-blizzard snow damage and the recent class I took with Jane Godshalk on making arrangements in sand. But I'm getting huge pressure from my son, a.k.a the Delivery Boy so I am going to come back later to chat. I liked this picture of my big bunny!

Happy Valentine's Day

And Happy Chinese New Year, Korean Lunar New Year and Tet (Vietnamese Lunar New Year)! We cover all of them in our house so as not to leave anyone out. It's one of my favorite traditions in our family that I am trying to build as an annual holiday amidst our patchwork tribe in an effort to honor both Max and Molly's native countries. Plus, I always love to host a party and it's a neat opportunity to share our childrens' rich cultures with our friends and community!

Traditionally, for said celebrations in Asia - all marked by the same lunar calendar every year - people clean their houses, sweep out the old energy, clear a path for the new and honor our ancestors.

So I think it's little coincidence that I just happened to choose to open my little floral design business on the cusp of the Lunar New Year. Without doing so consciously, I've been clearing out the creative clutter (mostly in brain that shows up as writer's block or artist's block) and embarking on the new with enthusiasm and excitement. For once, it doesn't matter what other people think of me or if I'm doing it right. I'm just doing it - giving it a try without expectations or a demand for results. Of course, I will be happy and call it a success if I can cover the cost of my flowers and supplies!

A new venture for me, this business called Fleurish, and I feel like I've opened a brand new door. To where I'm not sure and the odd thing is I don't have to be at the helm navigating. I have to do what the captain says and so far that has been completely graceful and with ease. In fact, I don't recall doing anything so gracefully and spirit-led in my life THIS CONSCIOUSLY than what I am doing now. It's as if I am but a mere channel and the directions or creations come through me.

Philosophizing aside, I wanted to give a big thank you to the brave souls who believed in me this past week, placing the trust of their Valentine's Day orders in my green hands. I thank you for your courage and for your belief in me. During the process of every design I created, I consciously thought of whomever I was creating the flowers for you, thinking of what they would like in terms of color and style. Not every girl is a red rose fan but variety was limited, especially the close we got to Valentine's Day.

Fifteen orders later, I'm ready for a bath and a few days off cuz my feet hurt but the experience over the past week was fabulous. Thanks again, friends. Your trust is a healing balm for my soul.

Here are a few designs I did for friends/clients over the past week.

Here Comes the Sun!

It's a beautiful sunny day though only 29 degrees out. Molly just woke up from her nap and we're going to pile on our snow clothes and boots to go make an igloo (Max's request) and some snow angels. Then the obligatory hot chocolate when we return.

We lost power for about three hours last night around 6 pm. Thank you to the utility workers who braved the snow and cold to fix our power lines in pitch black darkness last night. Power was restored just around 9, about the same time my camping spirit "resolve" started to wane. Thankfully, our neighbors down the street, who are obviously on a different grid, offered to let us stay at their house last night, something we were very close to doing. It's one thing for Tom and me to brave the cold (couldn't be worse than when we were hiking around the Annapurna in Nepal) but I was concerned about the two littles.

The worst part of the power outage for me, and I write this knowing I have so little to complain about and so much to be grateful for, is not knowing. I have spent a lot of my adult life trying to learn how to be comfortable with not knowing and having faith in the unknown. I have yet to study the chapter on power outages and things that concern the welfare of my children. Should we pack up and go to my mom's house because she always has power but risk the bad roads to get there? Or are we safer staying put in our home, albeit cold and uncomfortable? Luckily, I never had to answer those questions last night and will continue to work on the faith part.

It's remarkable that this snow-covered winterland is the same garden that will spring to vibrancy in a couple of months. Keeping fingers crossed we don't lose any trees or branches. My next door neighbor lost two big branches off of her stunning and mature magnolia. (I'm hoping she'll let me have a few smaller branches.)

I'm getting pressure to go make an igloo. Must suit up! Here are a few photos I took when I went out to sweep the snow off of our heat pumps yesterday afternoon. Today you can't even see my tracks through the two foot snow!

Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow!

We are reportedly in the midst of experiencing the biggest snow storm in the Mid-Atlantic in 80 years. Oh goodie! Lots of people are complaining about the snow but so long as everyone is safe and the power stays on, we are good to go. I kind of like it myself. Everything is so quiet and tranquil, even if it's deceptively so.

We had a small hiccup of a power outage tonight around 10 p.m. and it scared Max. He immediately wanted to find his flashlight in case it happened again and asked to sleep with both of us. Some night guard he will make!

Anyway, after everyone went to sleep, I stayed downstairs and did - can you guess? - made some flower arrangements. Well, truth be told it's after I found the emergency candles, matches and hand-crank radio. Just in case... While the weather folks are in a media frenzy over at the Weather Channel, I'm realizing that there may just be some substance to their usual attempt to make hysteria out of nothing.

Anyway, I had a bunch of flowers left-over from a nice job I delivered today and rather than see them go to waste, I played. Listening to our dear friend Sean Johson (www.seanjohnsonandthewildlotusband.com) sing and chant on his latest album, Devaloka, I puttered, clipped, taped and designed in the silence of the night. For me it's so relaxing and uplifting. It's like a meditation almost. Touching nature, things grown from our beautiful Mother Earth and feeling their energy is such a treat in our exaggerated technological world. Don't get me started on Nature Deficit Disorder. It's too late for that soapbox.

I fear that when my family wakes up in the morning, they will think that the forces of the blizzard and gale force winds have swept them away from Tunis Mills and moved them into a flower shop. They all seem to like it so far and are excited for my new venture. Even Max is excited and wants to show me a few tips with magnolia leaves and his phaleonopsis orchid.

I love this quote!

I was looking through one of my garden club handbooks the other day and stumbled upon a quote that I just think is terrific. I'm a quote collector though I couldn't tell you where my collection is. Anyway, here goes:

"The best way to get real enjoyment out of the garden is to put on a wide straw hat, dress in thin loose-fitting clothes, hold a little trowel in one hand and a cool drink in the other, and tell the man where to dig." Charles Barr