Peony
Spying a mischievous nymph said to hide in the petals of the Peony can be a wonderful pastime for any little girl on a warm summer day in her grandparents' backyard.
Sitting on the sun warmed green back porch stairs. A gentle breeze rustles the young leaves of the giant Silver Maple. Underneath the peony jungle.
Like weeds, they grow along the property edge. Invading the cement walkway laid in the grass.
Sandals abandoned elsewhere. Toes curled downwards as knees clench a chipped tea cup filled with fine white sugar. A rhubarb stalk, freshly cut, juicy and crisp clutched in my sun browned hand.
Greedily I dunk it into the depths of the sweet crystal snow. My witch's brew that would alarm any dentist. Swishing and swirling the granules to ensure a heavily doused treat from heaven, my taste buds sing to the angels as I suck.
Encouraged by the warm breeze, the Peonies nod in agreement as I scamper up the stairs, warm feet shocked by the cool kitchen linoleum floor, in search of more sugar.
