Lesson from the Garden: #342

A long, long time ago (ok, maybe not LONG long, but at least 10-15 years), my friend suggested traveling together to a nursery that specialized in day lilies and peonies. Anne is a life-long gardener/plant whisperer, and my forever go to person for all things garden. When she said we should go together, I didn’t hesitate to say yes. According to Anne, the business was changing locations and having a big sale to reduce inventory before the move. This would be a rare opportunity to purchase some bare root selections not usually offered. We made a date and I looked forward to the adventure.

After driving north for an hour or so, we pulled in off of the highway into an open field parking lot; no spaces, only dirt, and LOTS of people. Anne parked the car and we followed the foot traffic past a line of trees and into another clearing. Instead of the big elevated tables I was used to seeing at other garden centers, plants and piles of roots were on the ground in row-ish lines, held in buckets or freely scattered on pallets. It felt overwhelming. We were handed a non-alphabetical (but thankfully numbered) varietal list written on the back of a sketched map, and ushered forward into the field. The daylilies were easy to recognize because they were still in bloom, but the peonies? They all looked the same; bare roots in clumps, sitting next to wrinkly laminated photos of the beautiful flowers they should someday produce. It was a dusty, loosely organized, exciting treasure hunt. The action on the ground was fierce, and there was no time for indecision. Customers nabbed roots with lightning speed, quickly emptying the non-restockable pallets. After an excessive amount of hmming and hawing, I narrowed my purchases down to three peony roots and ten daylilies. I could’ve chosen more, but a girl only has so much garden to fill!

[I’d like to pause here to mention that the previous owner of my home was a master gardener. Mrs. M planted large, sweeping gardens full of gorgeous flowering plants and unique green textures.

I had no idea what I was getting into when we purchased our home.

Sure, I knew there WERE gardens, but only because I saw photographs. We closed in the month of February when the yard was covered in deep snow, erasing everything except large bushes. When April rolled around and the gardens woke up, I knew I was in trouble. I’ve definitely learned a lot since those first years, but let’s just say my early gardening philosophy was strictly Darwinian. Bushes and plants lived and died according to survival of the fittest; if something couldn’t make it with the care I provided, it simply didn’t. I only tell you this because I want you to understand my extreme novice level experience when I purchased and brought the peony roots and lilies home. I had absolutely NO business adding rare plants to my garden; I already had plenty of greenery that I knew nothing about. ]

Anne explained that planting bare roots was different than pansies and petunias, and I shouldn’t expect to see anything above ground for at least one season. I happily planted each root with a marker, and looked forward to seeing them pop up in the next year or two. 

*******

The following spring, two out of three plants did indeed come up as anticipated. I watched for the last one, but it didn’t appear.

No biggie, said Anne. Give it another year.

The next spring the same two peonies came up, but not the third.

Nor the year after.

Nor the year after that.

When I asked Anne what she thought could have happened, she offered “maybe you planted the roots upside down?” 

Upside down?! I didn’t know there was a designated top and bottom to a root. A bulb, sure. But a root? Remember, I had no idea what I was doing at the time I planted the peonies, and so this up/down root scenario was entirely possible. 

As you can probably guess, the peony never did appear, and over time, I stopped looking for it. 

Upside down. Sheesh.

*****

Fast forward a bunch of years to now. My husband and I were walking around outside along the garden edge, taking stock of the tiny plants poking up through the mulch. He casually stopped to point out a smaller and not-so-healthy looking plant, saying “I didn’t know we had a peony over here.”

Huh?

We don’t have one there. Unless….

No.

YES! It was that long ago planted and never appeared peony. There it was. I don’t know how that’s even possible, but it finally appeared, right where I had planted it. The plant only had a few blooms, but they were beautiful, light peachy-coral stunners.

And so, without further ado, I present to you the peony that persevered.

I feel somehow ashamed that I gave up on ever seeing this plant rise, but obviously it hadn’t given up on itself. Nope. The sun shone and the rain fell on its little patch of dirt, and deep down the little bare root waited. For what, I’ll never know, and I don’t need to. Maybe I did plant it upside down and it took alllllllll this time for it to right itself and reach upward. I feel badly for planting it improperly and making it work so hard. But maybe it had nothing to do being upside down, and the peony simply didn’t think the timing was right, or it just wasn’t ready, until now. Whatever the reason, this was the year the third peony plant decided to appear to the world and say hello. 

Amazing.

Not to sound crazy, but I learn many poignant lessons from my garden. Here is the one offered to me by this peony; just because you expect something you plant to grow in a certain way or along a specific timeline, doesn’t mean it will do either. Put another way, don’t give up when your plans aren’t going the way you thought they would.

Welcome to the garden my lovely peony friend. I’m sorry to have doubted you, I am delighted at your arrival, and I am oh, so happy to meet you.