Years ago… our
oldest daughter (and boyfriend) rented a rambling old
house with lovely flowerbeds, in the heart of downtown, adjacent to a
small library. My husband and I used to marvel at the architecture of the
house, compared to the antiseptic modern look of the library. The woodwork inside
this house was exquisite. It transported you back in time. My daughter wanted
to live there forever. Unfortunately, she was told the lease was up, because the
home owner had decided to sell the old house, to the library. It seemed the library
wanted more parking spaces for their facility… and planned to bulldoze this
relic of the past, into oblivion… and then blacktop the empty lot. This was
heartbreaking. All of us were saddened that the house would be no more. Some of
the old doors and hardware were salvaged. But I wondered what would happen to
all the gorgeous plants and flowers surrounding the house’s foundation. I was
told they would be plowed under. This upset me more than you can possibly know.
I asked my daughter if I could dig up a few of the peonies. I had heard they
were originally put in, when the house was built… back in the 1930’s or 1940’s. That meant they were very
old and had a rich history. In my mind, transplanting them somewhere else, would
preserve the memory of the house. She said the owner didn’t want anything
touched. I thought it was an atrocity. My husband knew I was losing sleep over
this and made a suggestion. We’d plan a covert operation, the two of us, to save the plants. So that is exactly what
we did. Dressed like cat burglars, under the guise of darkness, armed with
shovels and plastic bags we rescued 4 peony plants, the day before the
demolition. It was exhilarating to be able to pull off such a feat. We hid them
out of sight for a week, anticipating all hell to break loose. But it never
did. Nobody ever noticed they were missing. So… these precious plants were placed in
our flowerbed, with love and tenderness. Unfortunately, only two of the peonies
survived. We felt guilty that we had taken them from their native soil. We
confessed what we had done… but our daughter had moved on and didn’t seem to
care. Twenty years has passed. Our flowerbed in now overgrown and neglected. It
makes me sad to see it in such disrepair. But despite that… these beautiful,
resilient peony plants… still open their pretty, fragrant heads, every spring…
hidden among all the weeds. They bring us great joy, and remind us, of a house, in our daughter's history that will always live on, in our hearts.
PS) Pictures of the old house
are buried in a box
somewhere in the attic.
Could not find them at this time.
