The Presences of Peonies

So there is a story behind yesterday’s poem. About a week ago at lunch I went to Whole Foods. (Yes I’m there a lot.) I walked in the main entrance, which is something I don’t usually do. The reason I don’t do this is because that’s where all the flowers are. Now these are the really good flowers, exotic, imported, organic, no neon died daisies or discount roses here. They aren’t even that highly priced it’s just that money is tight. So I’d rather not even think about it because I can’t have them, but that day I forwent my prudent avoidance and walked in the main door anyway.

Oh my, there they all were. Prominently displayed were peonies, vibrant, saturated, ridiculous with life, whole bouquets of them one after the other. It was too much to resist. I started imagining them in every space in my life, at my desk at work, on the dining room table, on the coffee table, in my room on the dresser. Oh, I wanted them so badly.

I have money. I could buy at least one bouquet right? The dissonance in me that this wasn’t really true started playing. If I buy these flowers I won’t have money for other things that I actually need and that’s going to stress me out more than the flowers will bring me delight. I felt a bit defeated and sad, but then suddenly I thought the delight of having something beautiful shouldn’t be crushed, so I prayed, “Lord bring me flowers, bring me flowers.” The prayer floated through me and the notion of them as a gift became more delectable then just buying them up in the moment.

It felt like such a delightfully fun thing to ask God for too. I had a feeling that he was interested in my request and a wonderful anticipation arose of seeing how God would deliver. I relaxed and let myself walk away, silently offering the prayer, opening myself to how they might come, imaging scenarios in which they might show up and then letting it go.

I was enamored by the request enough that I wrote the poem, obviously postulating the meaning of flowers. I finished it yesterday.

Yesterday, I went home too. Of course I go home everyday, except this week. I’ve been dog sitting for a friend. I came home to get some things and to hang out with my roommate Mary Ellen. We sat out on the back porch for a while with another friend, just chit-chatting about stuff. We started talking about the house, which Mary Ellen owns, and all the projects that she wants to get done. We were talking about the yard and she turns to me suddenly and half asks, half announces her recent discovery “Erica, did you know we have a peony bush?”

“No” I said, and then trying to picture I ask, “Where?”

“It’s around the side of the house.”

“Oh” I said, still trying to imagine where, and because I’m a little slow I’m only thinking “hmm, there’s a flowery bush hiding on the property, that’s nice.”

“Well show me” I say. She walks me around to the side of the house in the backyard. Between the chain link fence and this huge juniper tree is sandwiched a peony bush that is just starting to bloom.

We stood looking at the bush, discussing the insanity of the former owner who planted it. It’s completely obscured from sight from almost any angle. How anyone would get to enjoy it was a mystery.

So I’m standing there talking about and looking at the bush and suddenly I begin to remember that I have been asking for flowers and it begins to dawn on me that it’s peonies that started all the asking. I fall silent from the conversation and stare at the bush like it just caught fire and started talking. I consider removing my shoes, they're already off.

I don’t say anything to Mary Ellen or our friend. It’s too lovely to say anything just yet, though I’m having trouble keeping a smile off my face. I keep my secret till our friend leaves, then tell Mary Ellen. “Well, you know where the vases are,” she says. The blooms are just getting going, there will be lots of flowers, enough for the office, the dinning room, the coffee table, the dresser, oh my, oh my, all free, all gift.