Location, location, location.

After I got settled here, in 2009, I ordered five fancy peony bushes. They are Shirley Temple, Festiva Maxima, Bouchela, Edulis Superba and Red Magic, surely enough peonies to last forever. They have grown huge. They are ready to burst into bloom.

Later, I discovered a few puny ones here and there, planted in all the wrong places. I no longer had need of more peonies. However, I became like my friend Judy who found stray cats irresistible, until she had given a home to seventeen of them.

Several spindly specimens were found languishing down in the deep shade between two outbuildings. There, they only had enough sunshine to keep body and soul together, never blooming. Despite the fact that peonies supposedly don't like to be transplanted, they seemed to beg me to get them out of that bad neighborhood. This is one that I missed.

With no formal first-aid training, I started CPR, Crowded Peony Rescue. I dug them up. They didn't even complain when I accidentally broke some of their fragile roots in the process. I gave them a sunny location, on the south side of the house. Although I doubted if they would amount to much, these three by the front porch have turned into beautiful shrubs.

The former owner was known for planting things extremely close together. I rescued some peonies that were growing inches from big trees, also in the shade. Ones like this one were clinging to a tiny bit of soil and dear life. My splendid Hellebore is right at home; the peony is not.

One was growing in the same space as an overpowering  Rugosa rose. When the rose died back, the peony put on a surprising amount of growth and is now quite respectable. It can hold its own with the other four peonies along the cow fence. Miss Iris the naughty cat is seen in the grass, and Beau is sniffing something near the rain barrel.

A home was found inside the garden fence for these two, with a splendid view of the chicken coop. They especially appreciated it after being stuck in the gloomy alley for most of their lives.

At last count, I have fifteen big blooming peony bushes. Rich, rich, rich, beyond my wildest dreams. When I get to seventeen, I'll stop.