Diving In

I love my peonies. I don't even feel like I'm being prideful in saying it. I did not plant them, I inherited them from the previous owners of the house. But I guess I am proud of the grace shown in that they have survived us for 11 Mays! They have survived toddlers, a short season of dog trampling, droughts, and this year, near floods. Yet every May, they bloom. And the beautiful foliage endures all summer after the fragrant blossoms fade away - hiding the ugly chainlink fence and providing a nice hiding place for balls, army guys, toy cars and other child treasures.

I love them.

Last night, while picking out the most beautiful blooms to make an arrangement for our neighbors whose daughter graduates from high school tonight, I noticed that a whole patch of them were squashed, broken. It was like something large had fallen on them. Was it the rain?

Giles, did you do this? Nope.
Lydia, did you do this? No, ma'am.
Grant, did you do this? Yep.


I wanted to dive on them and swim across, he explained.

The evidence of a table, suitable for jumping/diving, was still part of the crime scene, placed at the end of the row. How did I miss that?

Lydia later confessed to being a near co-conspirator. She said it looked really fun and she wanted to try it, but she knew she'd get in trouble.

Time will tell whether our hearty peonies survive high diving.


  1. Oh Granty...haha. This makes me laugh. Kinda reminds me of myself when I was little. If something looked inviting... you can bet I tried it at least once. Good job to Lydia for having some self control. I think you should share the story about the "freakin hurt" forehead. Love ya, mean it.

  2. I DID NOT DO IT !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!