Two years ago on return from holidays I found a small, nondescript plant in my flower bed. It wasn’t unusual for one of my folks to plant something in my garden while they were checking on the house, but I didn’t think it a particularly great spot, or much of a shrub at that, so I pulled it out and set it aside. A week or so later Dad mentioned in passing that he’d planted a peony for me while I’d been away. I was distraught! I’d only recently admired the stunning cerise pink peony in my parents’ garden and so he had bought one and planted it for me with little ceremony, as was his way.

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