I love flowers. I love the colors, shapes, smells of almost all of them. Some of the most beautiful and fragrant are Peonies. They have a beautiful appearance and fragrance and last quite a while after cutting. The town my husband grew up in was named for the flower. It was named Paonia. (peeyown’ya) in Colorado accent.
A small town in Colorado, USA, in the fifties where everyone knows everyone else, small classes where all the same jocks are stars of all the sports and all the girls are in the choir and yearbook committees. Bobby socks, high school hops, blue jeans with hems rolled up, Converse sneakers or white socks and loafers. Cigarette packs rolled up in the sleeves of white t-shirts, soda fountains and juke boxes. The coal trains, miners walking home for dinner, kids playing outside until the town whistle sounded. Played dodgeball, kick the can and spin the bottle. Hunting and fishing in season. Working in the fruit packing plant a given, or picking cherries and peaches for a few cents a box. Picnics, card parties, sewing groups, July 4th Cherry Days festivities with a parade including floats from all the high school alumni classes from each graduation year. No locked doors,one pizza joint, and one movie theater in town, and a drive in on the outskirts of town in the summer. Memorial Day with the American Legion troops going to each cemetery doing the gun salute, naming deceased veterans, placing flags on grave sites and on the town bridge, American flags posted every few feet, flying on both sides while another ceremony included throwing wreaths in the river.