Memorial Day Peonies

Sounds a little self-centered, but visiting the cemetery is not a chore I have ever enjoyed.  It makes me melancholy, and it doesn’t bring my family back to me, only their demise.

Years ago, Frank and I decided we’d be cremated.  Our #1 reason?  Because we didn’t want anyone to have to take care of Memorial Day or holidays or buy a stone, yada, yada, yada.  

Our McCreight/Goldsmith tradition is to decorate the graves of family and friends with an abundant bouquet of peonies. I have vivid memories of my grandma watching the peonies carefully for the buds, then the arrival of an army of little bitty black ants. The ants must chew the bud open in order for it to bloom. This is a crucial point in knowing when to cut the bud stems...the bud MUST be chewed open. Grandma would visit the rows every morning and again in the evening. I watched as Grandma wrapped the stems in wet newspaper and carefully placed each stem into Pioneer seed bags and filling her International Harvester fridge in the utility room. (Aside: Ants do come inside, but they are too cold in the fridge and don’t go anywhere. Really!) There the buds remained until Sunday before Memorial Day when she would take them out and fill #10 cans wrapped in aluminum foil with warm water and buds. (I always share when I meet people who don't know about this flower saving method.) By the next morning, the buds had bloomed into gloriously fragrant flowers, ready to grace the graves of our loved ones.

My mom took over when they moved to the farm and added even more graves to decorate.  She relished the days she would collect her peonies to prepare the bouquets she’d lovingly deliver to her parents, their parents, and then eventually Dad’s, her sister’s, and her best friend.  In her last few years, she needed my help, and somehow, I unknowingly became the next keeper.

Now this job is mine.  Each evening I have stalked the rows, looking for perfectly ready buds and some sort-of opened flowers to add to my stash in the fridge.  The cans have new foil and I added some sand to help with the destructive Kansas wind. L: last years

It rained steadily for 36 hours. The blooms I was going to use outside are water logged. The laundry room had arrangements everywhere of the buds, now blossoms, and the perfume is intoxicating! Bouquets will be delivered to eight special memories when the rains ease.

As I worked, my mind drifted back to memories of my mom’s love of this special duty that she did without care or complaint.  I never wanted to be next.  I didn’t intend to do this.  But it just happened, as if this is a commitment that comes with living at The Farm.