June is for peonies.
I was lucky to go strawberry picking yesterday, and even luckier to find these gorgeous peonies for sale at the farm store.
I love the aroma of peonies. The fragrance is thick and luxurious. Just like the flowers’ petals. I want to shrink myself, curl up, and take a nap in them.
I love how the blossoms go from a green, perfect sphere to their majestic, opened state.
On the way, there is a point where they resemble another favorite flower, ranunculus, the way that there is almost a flat line across the top. What I like about ranunculus is that they look like someone took a rose and cut it halfway down.
Just the other day, I was reminiscing about the peonies that my parents grew at my childhood home after seeing a post about Tree Peonies on the blog My Food and Flowers. I remember that I loved bringing a bouquet of them inside each June, except that it brought lots of ants in, too. Try as you might to shake them all out before bringing them in, you could never get them all.
I was so happy to find them yesterday at the farm and bring with me. They are making my home smell beautiful. It is intoxicating. My head is spinning, my words are slurring. I’m drunk on pure beauty.