I’ve returned from a stealth mission around the neighborhood. I’ve walked around the block with one of Ronald’s box cutters held in the flat of my palm. I’ve kept it tucked closely into my side while looking furtively over my shoulder and waiting for other late evening walkers to pass me by. And the whole point of this particular exercise? 

To steal a few stalks of long-stemmed peonies from the bushes that have sprouted up now that spring has sprung here in Boulder. 

I flat out love these flowers. I think I love them more than Mum’s David Austin roses that she used to grow at the top of our driveway and that she’d cut early in the morning so that when we woke up, the living room would breathe their freshly cut, perfumed-scent while we clattered about getting ready for school. 

There’s something about this flower that seem to open and open and open. Their tight-fisted petals unfurl into vibrant life with seemingly endless abundance. I can’t get enough of them, hence the undercover explorations around the ‘hood. 

I bought a bunch from TJs yesterday but too many is never enough so I’ve also been eyeing where they’re growing within a square-mile radius of home. There are a ton of bushes that sprout up on people’s verges so I’ve decided that that makes them practically public property. This explains tonight’s perambulations with a switchblade. 

Some of these bushes grow underneath lamp posts which makes cutting them an exercise in timing. I’ve got to wait for the occasional car to drive past as well as peer into the gloom and hope to heck that no one else is observing me as I slice the stems. And tonight is a full moon—or near enough to it—to make me a little leery. I would not be surprised to find myself on the business end of a shotgun if I were to be caught stealing someone’s flowers. Personally, if someone was rummaging about cutting my peonies, I’d be out on the porch pronto with the Winchester good and cocked.  

Then again, perhaps peonies are nothing more than an extravagant weed for the locals. I mean, they grow like wildfire at the moment so perhaps I’m taking things to the extreme with all this nonsense. 

Whatever. I do know that downstairs is a bunch of flowers in a vase that gives me quiet joy.

Footnote: I'm not the only peony thief in town. Yesterday I walked past one of 'my' bushes and someone else has also been hacking away at the stems. How very dare.