Grandma Brumbaugh with her peony’s
Spring time is a time of renewal. Not only of our gardens, flowers beds and yards but our mind. When Spring rolls around every year I think of my Grandma Brumbaugh and her love of flowers, plants and being outside. I share those same interest. I love going around and seeing the fresh new starts coming back from winter’s sleep in the beds. Oh there’s the hostas. Bee Balm. Mums for fall. But one of my grandma’s favorites, and mine as well, is the peony’s. Big, full, beautiful blooms of different shades of pink along with white.
Grandma had those at her little cottage house on East George in Arcanum for years. Occasionally she would dig one up or get from a friend and bring it down to the farm to plant. I would look out the window and there would be Grandma with her shovel planting the peony bush in the yard. At that time I really didn’t appreciate their beauty or the gift and thought “Oh-another thing to mow around”. But every year those same peony’s would come up and show off their beautiful colors like ‘please appreciate me’!
Grandma has been gone from our lives for 25 years. But not from our hearts. Every spring those peony shoots come up and unless we get a early frost show off their beautiful colors of pink. I cut a bouquet and bring in the house and I thank Grandma for showing me beauty in the world.
Several years ago we did some new flower beds and I had to have peony’s. The old starts were gone except for one from the front yard at the farm. It got transplanted when we did some addition work. I saw it one day in the woods and like Grandma, brought it back up to the house and new flower bed. And like Grandma, I asked friends for starts to complete the light, middle and dark hues of pinks to have variety. Today some of my white ones are in Dayton at my daughter’s home.
Delight in the beauty of flowers and sharing and enjoy spring! A new beginning. Please share your garden and flower stories from your family and past. If you don’t have a memory then make one with a dear friend or grand child.
Written by Annette Stewart in memory of Grandma Brumbaugh-Inez Michael Brumbaugh.
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