For When We Don't Feel Ready for Beauty

late-bloomers, early-bloomers, and the wisdom of spring

I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but upper Midwesterners are on peony watch right about now. For weeks, I’ve been inspecting mine, marveling at their height, equal-parts thrilled and angsty that it’s happening so terribly, wonderfully early this year.

It will only take a few more warm, sunny days…

That’s what I told myself.

When yesterday rolled in with a storm cloud, I didn’t even make it out to the back yard until after 7pm. Imagine my shock when I saw this…

As it turns out, it hadn’t “needed” more cozy sun baths, the agricultural equivalent of a spa day, in order to bloom. It had banked what it required, storing up sunshine in its spine, hoarding springtime in its stems and hope in its nodes.

I took a few pictures, then headed out for an evening walk. Before I even made it past my lawn, light rain began falling again. As luck would have it, Thursdays are Window days, so I was still in my ballcap. I kept going.