VermontDriedPeonies.com

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Vermont Dried Peonies, quality air dried peonies

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In my early thirties, I had two long sought after children. I was in heaven, living a very organic lifestyle with my husband in a small rural village nestled in a mountainous valley in central Vermont. We were working on our real values of life; family, organic vegetable gardening, community and work. The focus then seemed to be on becoming aware of our own resourcefulness, discovering the earth and its miraculous manifestations; putting up frozen vegetables, pickling and preserving, raising our own meats, etc. Family life and work entailed using the earth, and food was the main purpose behind that effort. Harvesting pumpkins and squash and digging potatoes with sweet anticipation of finding bushels of them was akin to the satisfaction of finding gold. Suddenly the earth made the world a different place. The earth could produce miracles from tiny little seeds, and we had discovered a connection with life that awakened a new creative drive which brought us deep satisfaction.

One day, when my girls were one and two years old, I was visiting a friend who exemplified the 'organic' lifestyle in the tasteful expression of her aesthetic values. I eyed a wreath on her wall that instantly captured me. It was made of hay. That was it, just hay, with a pretty blue ribbon woven around it. I don't know if it was the simplicity, or the concept of the symbolism of the circle that seemed to entrance me, but at that moment I seriously fell in love with both it and the pleasure it brought me to look at it. Something stirred deep within, as if I had seen something from a distant past that I had long ago forgotten, or something from the future calling to me. At any rate, the feeling of joy and inspiration I felt prompted me to rush home and immediately secure some hay, and proceed to make as many hay wreaths as I could; each with a different ribbon and bow. I would then rush to all my friends and give them away with great enthusiasm assuming I had just created great works of art.

The following winter, I became more aware of dried flowers as a way of decorating the hay wreaths. So I began another love affair with flower catalogs. The next summer we planted our usual vegetable gardens, but we also tilled up a new patch of grass for the planting of flowers to dry. These were, in my thinking, 'experiments' to determine what dried flowers were all about. I ordered five seed packets of different everlastings and planted long, one-hundred foot rows of each of them. Needless to say, our experiment yielded hoards of flowers and, having become so 'resourceful', had to figure out what to do with them as I was not inclined to let them go by. So I sat on my living room floor with piles of flowers all around me, put together thirty or so bouquets, signed up for a local farmers market in Montpelier VT, and grabbing one little girl under each arm, headed for the market with a car full of flowers. The year was 1982, and most people had never seen such color in dried flowers before, and being priced at $3.00 each, I sold out before the market officially opened at 9:00 o'clock. That was it. From that point on I would spend Fridays making bouquets and come home on Saturdays with some much needed cash. So not only was I in love with dried flowers, but I could make money at it.

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