Tuesday, May 18
One of the things that first grabbed me about this house was the flourishing peony bush at the side of the house: I'd never been able to grow them and they are among my favorite flowers. I wouldn't say it clinched the deal for me, but it was one ingredient added to the soup, which added up to a "This is it." flavor!
However, the reality is that Henry adores flower buds. One memorable summer he actually ate all my daisies just as they were about to break into bloom (he is a conoisseur. He only eats them at that perfect stage of "ripeness"). So, last year, I waited and waited with joyful anticipation for the peonies to start their show, but one morning went out and saw Hen carefully snapping off the last fat peony bud, and letting it fall gently to the ground (didn't actually eat the peonies so perhaps his poison sensor kicked in). I rarely allow Henry's escapades to get to me, but that morning I was in tears and dragged myself around wretchedly all the day.
This year, I put all thought of peonies out of my mind. Yesterday I was walking past the side of the house when some vivid magenta splotches caught my eye. I was astonished to find he had left three buds on the bush and they were in various stages of bloom! Thank you dear Henry!