The Power of Peonies

I am occasionally bestowed a bouquet of flowers at the office for taking on a task or assisting with a project.  Regrettably, the gesture is always appreciated more so than the flowers, so I bring the color filled vases to my Mom, who enjoys cut flowers more than I. 

But this time was different.  Asked by a colleague to assist with a PowerPoint presentation, I designed and formatted it at home over the weekend on my own time, enjoying the creative process despite the many hours of work.

Back in the office on Monday morning – the two of us reviewed the presentation; tweaked it; practiced the technical aspects; and elevated it to perfection.  Satisfied, job well done.  After lunch, my colleague returned with two cellophane wrapped bouquets of huge compact peony buds on long stalks.  I borrowed a large glass vase from the lunchroom to put the stalks in water.  Once on display, the fragrance had passersby walk a little bit, slower to inhale just a little bit deeper.  The buds were magnificent in their uniqueness the scent transcending folks to different times and different places.

 

As the days passed, the blooms opened, more fragrant, and the magic started to happen.  Kelly walked by my desk, stopped and smiled.  "When I see peonies I remember my grandmother.  Her garden was full of them every Spring."  She then proceeded back to her desk, her face a little brighter.

On Friday, a quiet and "all business" Director, Dan, came through the office door, focused on his destination in the neighboring department.  He glanced toward my cubicle.  "Beautiful flowers"  "Peonies" I said.  Dan changed his course and wandered over to get a closer look.  "Peonies are one of my favorite garden flowers" he said, "if only they would last longer.  And then there is the ants. Cannot be brought into the house."  Then Dan proceeded to tell me about his flower gardens and the recent loss of his beloved hydrangea bush that he had for 15 years.  He talked about replacing it with a new hybrid that produces multiple colors of blooms.  The more he talked, his facial features softened, until a warm smile  He ended his flower garden tales by telling me of three hydrangea bushes in an 'island' bed in his front yard.  They had not been faring well and he was sure to lose them despite many efforts to revive them.  He asked his brother-in-law, who asked "his guy" - who suggested a specific fertilizer.  The three bushes lived and are thriving.  

The peonies invited conversation where there was previously nothing to prompt exchange.  The peonies gave occasion to step away from work and transcend to more pleasant times and places.  The peonies, more than any other flower that has sat upon my desk, displayed a power to connect people.

 

 

And yes, the vase of peonies did eventually end up on Mom's kitchen table, which initiated a long overdue visit between us, and will hopefully bring about magical encounters for Mom in her home.

Crows and a Cacophony

June 18, 2017
Today, being Father's Day, it seemed like an appropriate time to dust off my blog and pay a little tribute to Dad, who despite having passed nine years ago, is still the genetic source of my quirks and my passions.  Today is about passions.

Starting in the 1950's until his dying day, there was always a year-round compost and a summer garden in our backyard.  Where there are food scraps, there are crows.  Hence my fascination with crows began.

In 1981, a smaller family homestead was built for my parents, new to the freedom of an empty-nest. The blueprints included a large picture window, placed next to the kitchen table, overlooking the backyard, to watch wildlife (and the neighbors), the entertainment of choice. 

1981. It was the same year I began my 24 years of living hundreds of miles away, so visits with my parents were to be but snippets of time, and memories.  Those snippets include crows as my parents and I spent precious time visiting at the kitchen table.  Dad telling me about the crows, especially the one with white in its feathers and the one with a broken leg who was carefully guarded by others in the flock.  And now, it is 2017.

My love of crows has never waned through the years, yet neither was it nurtured because I never possessed the right environment to establish a relationship with the mystical intelligent birds.  Recently, after a crash course Googling attracting crows on the internet, my quest began in earnest, despite the less than favorable yard accommodations.  In three shorts weeks there have been successes, mistakes and questioning stares from the neighbors.  Despite skepticism, and unveiled disparaging comments, being deterred is not an option.

Day One:  Early morning, throw peanuts in the shell in the road, the hollow tat-tat-tat-noise as they skittered on the blacktop -  a signal of food. Two joyful little squirrels reveled in the breakfast feast before them.  Ummm - Plan B.  Wait until a crow is heard in a nearby tree - then toss the peanuts.  An interested crow took an exceedingly long time to survey the area, but eventually took a few peanuts and flew off.

Day Two:  Early morning, throw a few peanuts and dried fruit in the road.  Two happy squirrels and a returning crow.  More nuts, more fruit, and a second crow appeared.  The squirrels and crows shared with no conflict.

This daily ritual continued with the addition of roasted chicken, hard boiled eggs, and Brazil nuts."If you offer it, they will come."  And come they did.  In less than a week the morning skies echoed with a cacophony of caws and crows flew from tree to wire to rooftop, eventually landing on the road for their morning meal.  The more food I tossed, the more crows that descended upon it, the more noise in the treetops and a fear set in wondering what had I done.  Neighborhood disruption and a quickly dwindling supply of crow treats in my refrigerator.

Google, attracting crows.  Again. After much reading, I came upon an article by an older woman, a story similar to mine, who befriended crows after much trial and error.  Her sage advice "Crows can consume a lot of food.  Put out only enough to encourage them to visit."  Thankfully, a more balanced interaction with the crows began.  I greatly reduced the portions, but not the variety.  The elimination of the Unlimited Buffet has reduced 'my flock' down to two or three faithful visitors.  And gone is the tedious, time-consuming task of deboning the chicken and breaking it into pieces.  Now I just throw out an entire leg or wing after the breast meat is gone.

"My" most bold and frequent crow visitor

Our relationship is flourishing.  I have company with my morning coffee.  Intelligent and entertaining companions.  I have a connection with Dad through our fascination with nature, through the enjoyment bestowed on us by crows.

Happy Father's Day Dad.  I can no longer mail you a card or give you a gift, but you can live on through my memories and the quirky past times that you nurtured in me long long ago.

A memorial to you, and an homage to the crows.

Love you Dad 💚