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Peonies fight move but can thrive in new neighborhood

“Clink … Cliiink!” Fifty cents in change, from my Americano with soy, made the rounds and settled at the bottom of the tip jar just as I read the attached sign: “If you fear change, leave it here.”

I don’t (fear change). But I did (leave a tip). The slogan still makes me chuckle, not only because it’s clever in a new-age, double-edged sort of way, but also because it makes my thoughts jump to ... peonies. Strange how the two connect in my mind.

I’ve been out back this week cutting off the last vestiges of peony blooms. Instead of letting its flower heads go to seed, I want the plant to put more effort into making bigger roots, not seed production. That way, I’ll get even better blooms next spring. (Who says you can’t fool Mother Nature? That is the very goal of deadheading flowers.)

So when I saw the sign on the coffee shop tip jar, my thoughts started percolating. I’ve been wrestling with the thought of moving one of my peonies — realizing full well that peonies hate moving. They “fear change” in the worst way. No wonder they’re often referred to as the “century plant”; once they’re happy in one location, they just get better and better the longer you leave them there.

The peony I’m considering moving is a small herbaceous variety called Claire Dubois, which has enormous pink, frilly flowers that smell like old roses. I planted one in the back yard and another in front. Now, I notice Claire bloomed big-time in the back yard, but petered out in the front yard. Perhaps you shouldn’t say anything quite yet, but I am considering a move for Claire, front to back, knowing that peonies fear change.

The one saving grace is that transplanting presents a great opportunity to divide. You’ll get a twofer: two peonies for the price of one. If you transplant a whole clump of peonies, the experts say it should be divided or cut up. This is done by cutting back the leaves, spraying all the dirt off the root cluster and using a sharp knife to slice the roots into sections. Look the sections over to make sure each one has three to five pink growth buds, called “eyes.”

When you get this far, it’s time to think about digging them a darned big hole, about the size of a garbage can lid. Remember, these “century plants” are going to be there a while. Mix in some organics (mulch), a cup of bone meal and some manure. Whatever you do, do not plant the roots directly in contact with the manure. Put a layer of soil in and then plant the “eyes” up and only an inch or two below the ground. Peonies don’t like to be planted too deep or too wet. Oh, and pick a sunny spot for them, please.

So, the “pro-peony” argument consists of the fact that it is possible to move them — and if you can do it successfully, you increase your stock, not to mention your gardening self-esteem. The con, of course, is the whole “fearing change” thing. Moving Claire might seal her fate, and I’d never see her again.

In the final analysis, I’ve got until October (prime peony transplanting time) to settle this once and for all. If nothing else, maybe that coffee shop change jar can change my mind. I’ll just toss my tip into the jar and see if it comes up tails.