If I followed the adage that every plant in my garden had to earn its place then I'm not convinced peonies are worth growing.
If I followed the adage that every plant in my garden had to earn its place then I'm not convinced peonies are worth growing. When it comes to their contribution to the display I'd have to say it's... brief.
Of course, anticipation is a virtue every gardener needs, but as soon as those big, bold blooms open it's bound to rain and shatter the petals. In the blink of an eye it's all over and I've got to wait another year for them to flower again.
My problem is that I love plants, and have to admit to loving peonies. They have always been part of my gardening life. Our family garden in Guildford was on a slope near the Downs, on very thin free-draining soil over chalk. Peonies loved it; they didn't demand a thing from us and flourished in return, forming thickets covered with flower.
I actually have a tenuous family connection to Kelways, a nursery in the West Country that specialises in peonies. My late-uncle was Ian Kelway, who married my Mum's sister Barbara. Ian didnâ??t move into the nursery business, but I remember pouring over old Kelways catalogues, crammed with colour plates of pristine fields with row upon row of pink, purple, white and red peonies. How I would love to have seen them. People must have travelled miles for a peony pilgrimage every May.
However, I am usually disappointed that, considering the space they take up, my peonies put on an all-too-fleeting display. Yes, you'll see them at the Chelsea Flower Show - it's the perfect time for them after all - but within a week (well a fortnight at most) they'll be over. Don't give me all that talk about relishing the moment, and isn't it lovely enjoying perfection if only for a few days.
Am I being too hard on the gorgeous, irresistible, flamboyant peony?
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