Despite the harsh conditions, my late mother's peonies are now in full and sumptuous bloom. Their bouquets are short lived but transform even a modest home in to a palace. As I bury my nose down into the blooms and inhale their delicate rosy fragrance, my mind time-travels back to my childhood. I hear metal clinking on metal as my father tinkers with some repair or other in the barn. I hear a cow bawl for her calf. In the distance a neighbour's dog barks. Barn swallows twitter and swoop to their mud nests in the tractor shed rafters. Uh-oh, I hear a familiar call from the house. "Flow-w-rinse. Florence!" Mom has a chore for me. Quickly back to 2020 reality.
|Fresh bouquets of peonies grace my kitchen window sill. Thank you, Mom.|
|The white ones are my favourites.|
|The wonderful fragrance of this pink peony would rival any rose.|
|I can picture this magenta beauty pinned to a lady's frock at a garden party.|
Remember the old saying, "About as welcome as a skunk in a chicken house."? Well, times have changed. Mom used to raise chickens in that little building and I now enjoy having this mother skunk around. Baby skunks are simply adorable and Jenny and I are on good terms.
|The small cut out between door and window was for a chicken ramp.|
|Jenny Skunk used dried grass to reduce the entrance to her den under the building.|