Peony Passion A

t the end of a woodsy farm road near Reidsville, I drive up to a snug, modest house that was built by the late Benjamin Ross Wrenn.

I park on a circular drive in front of the house. As I get out of the car, I notice a horse paddock just beyond the yard.

By Ross Howell JR. PHotogR aPHs By lynn Donovan

Wrenn’s daughters, Nancy and Heather, accompanied by a shaggy farm dog, come out the front door of the house to greet me.

Born in Greensboro to a mother who’d kept lovely perennial gardens in her native Virginia and a father who was a renowned greenskeeper, “Benny” Wrenn grew up loving the outdoors. He was given a pony by a friend of the family, Edward Benjamin, the developer of the Starmount neighborhood and Friendly Shopping Center.

“When the neighborhood boys were out riding bikes,” Heather says, “Dad’d show up riding his pony.”

Young Wrenn was the namesake of developer Benjamin and famed golf course designer Donald Ross, another family friend.

He attended Wake Forest University on a golf scholarship and earned his law degree there. For 55 years, Wrenn ran a successful criminal law practice in Reidsville. And he was a man of many interests.

“Dad taught himself to read, write and speak Spanish at the age of 70,” Heather tells me. “He was a lifelong learner.”

I take a seat at the dining room table with his daughters.

Though he passed away in 2017, Wrenn’s presence suffuses the place. Facing me is a floor-to-ceiling mural of rolling Piedmont farmland painted by an artist friend. Heather points out a cabinet that her father made by hand. There are paintings of horses hang- ing on the walls, along with photos of Wrenn and his daughters on horseback.

“He rode right up to age 75,” Nancy says. “He always thought of himself as a cowboy.” The sisters smile at each other.

Over the entrance to the adjoining room hangs a sign that reads “Benny’s Kitchen.”

“He loved to cook, too,” Heather says. “He was a phenomenal cook!”

The farm dog that greeted me whines to go out, and Nancy rises to open the door.

She tells me her father purchased the 70-acre farm in 1965.

“The farmer who owned the place was mowing the bottom pasture with his mule,” Nancy continues, returning to her seat. “Dad bought it from him right there on the spot.”

“I think initially he thought of the farm as his respite, his getaway from law work, where he could follow his passion,” she adds. “This was his happy place.”

But her father also wanted the farm to sustain itself financially. Ever the visionary, he set up a corporation, naming it Heathernan Inc., in honor of his daughters, to provide the framework.

Wrenn started with livestock.

“He named the farm the Cherokee Cattle Company,” Heather says. But raising cattle didn’t prove to be profitable. And since he wasn’t living on the property full-time, there were other problems.

“It always seemed like in the middle of the night, somebody would call Dad to tell him his cows were out in the road,” Heather says.

Wrenn gave up on the livestock and decided to plant Christmas trees. But the summer sun of the Piedmont proved to be too strong for the white pines he’d brought from the North Carolina mountains.

“Dad was always thinking about the future, how to sustain the farm, how to get revenues coming in,” Nancy says.

So he decided to build greenhouses.

“We started with five greenhouses to propagate annuals,” Heather says. Wrenn purchased flats of flowering plants from suppliers, then potted them in terra cotta containers he’d found at a good price in Georgia.

Ever resourceful, Wrenn designed a production line.

“He built this great big box,” Heather continues, “and he’d take his bulldozer and shove mulch and good soil in, and everybody had a cubbyhole, and you’d grab your soil, pop your plant in a pot. It was mass production!”

The potted annuals were so well received at farmers’ markets that Wrenn and his daughters expanded their selection, offering hostas, daylilies and tuberoses.

“Remember those beautiful tuberoses?” Nancy asks.

Heather nods.

But again, there were problems, especially for a father with a full-time law practice. Even with perennials, potting was laborintensive. The greenhouses were expensive to maintain and costly to irrigate, heat and cool.

Then Wrenn announced his semi-retirement from his law practice.

“He got real serious about what he was going to do next on the farm,” Heather says.

“So he started his research,” Nancy adds.

This was before the internet. Wrenn read book after book. He researched plants and growing zones. He studied soil types.

What he discovered was that the farm was situated in a region well-suited to grow an elegantly beautiful flower that had been cultivated in China for millennia. Even better, it was a hardy flower requiring relatively little maintenance in order to thrive.

“And deer won’t eat them,” Nancy adds.

Genus Paeonia. The peony.

And so, in time, Cherokee Cattle Company became The Peony Patch.

“He bought bulbs in batches direct from Holland,” Heather says.

“He started very simple, with whites and pinks,” Nancy continues. “He was thinking about marketability. Peonies are a big flower for weddings. Brides love the whites.”

Initially, Wrenn planted 2 acres, carefully measuring the distances between the bulbs, their depth in the soil and the grassy paths between rows. The peonies flowered beautifully the first year, but there could be no harvest.

“It’s a long-term investment,” Heather says. “By rule, you should not cut stems from a peony till it’s 3 years old.”

Seeing that first “blush,” with the peonies in peak bloom, Wrenn wanted more.

“He made me cut my horse pasture in half,” Heather laughs. Carefully, incrementally, Wrenn added field after field.

Today, The Peony Patch comprises some 15 acres, with more than 50,000 bulbs in the ground.

There are four varieties. Duchesse de Nemours and Festiva Maxima are the whites, and Monsieur Jules Elie and Sarah Bernhardt are the pinks. All are double-blossom varieties, so they’re enormous.

In a typical year, the peonies are cut over a 14- to 21-day period beginning May 1, depending upon the weather.

This is a time of intense labor.

“The first couple days, we’re cutting maybe a couple hundred stems, walking each row, each field,” Nancy says. By the third or fourth day — especially if there’s a day of full sunshine with temperatures in the 70s or 80s — the cutters might harvest 3,000 to 4,000 stems a day.

Fortunately, there are three laborers who have been with the farm for years. They see to it that each stem is individually cut, placed carefully in stackable bins and stored in a walk-in cooler at 34–36 degrees Fahrenheit for no more than two weeks.

“The flowers have to be cut at just the right time,” says Heather. “You can have one that’s not just right at 7 o’clock in the morning but at 4 o’clock in the afternoon that same day, you’d better get it.” Cutters walk each row in each field, gathering flowers, sometimes twice a day.

“Ideally we harvest stems that are at least 24 inches long,” Nancy says. “And since the blossoms are so big, they’re very heavy.”

The primary market for the peonies is wholesalers. Many come directly to the farm to pick up their orders, though Nancy or Heather might make deliveries on a limited basis as far away as Raleigh or Charlotte.

One of their most loyal customers is Randy McManus of Randy McManus Designs in Greensboro.

“Randy has been a real business partner since my Dad put his first peony in the ground,” Nancy says. “He’s a true peony lover.”

After the back-breaking surge of the blush, the harvest gradually tapers off. In a typical season, The Peony Patch will sell 10,000–12,000 stems. Even after harvest, the fields remain colorful for a few more days.

“We always leave at least three blossoms on each bush,” Heather says.

In preparation for the next season, the stackable bins will be washed and stored. The cooler will be shut down and cleaned with bleach. The fields will be bush hogged. Later — and only after at least two hard frosts — the fields are burned and raked for debris, as wind and rain permit.

Usually Nancy and her family — including grandchildren — will drive up from her home in Wilmington to celebrate Christmas at the farm with Heather and her husband.

Then it’s a waiting game. Waiting to see when the tiny red but- tons of new peony shoots begin to show themselves for spring. There are ongoing challenges for Wrenn’s daughters, of course. The need to replace equipment costing thousands of dollars. A new species of tree invading the fields. The creeping vines of poison oak choking the bulbs. And, since fields have yielded cuttings for well more than 20 years, they are long past the time when most growers dig up, clean and sterilize bulbs to rotate them into new fields.

And there’s slim payoff on the investment and work after expenses. Nancy and Heather tell me it’s actually the income from rental houses their father put on the farm that goes farthest to sustain it.

So why continue?

“Sometimes the phone rings during harvest and it’s a little old man looking for peonies to give his wife for their 70th anniversary celebration,” Heather says. “Or it’s a bride’s mother who says all her daughter wants for her wedding are peonies. Or it’s just someone who remembers the flowers that grew in their grandmother’s garden. People feel such passion for the peony. I think that’s why Dad selected it.”

Wrenn’s other daughter answers this way.

“I’m a project manager for an information technology company and Heather’s a nurse,” says Nancy. “The peonies are a real change of pace for us. Here we go from service jobs to production jobs, where we can work hard and see what we’ve accomplished during the day. That’s rewarding.”

“But mainly I do it out of honor and love and respect for my sister and Dad,” Nancy concludes. “When I’m on this farm, I feel very close to him.” OH

For more information or to contact Nancy and Heather, visit www.thepeonypatch.com.

Ross Howell Jr. is a peony lover and an O.Henry contributing writer. Email him at ross.howell1@gmail.com.

By CyntHia a Dams PHotogR aPHs By lynn Donovan

For decades, a Paul Billingsley-designed fountain was a centerpiece during the glory days of the sprawling Southcenter Mall near Seattle, Washington. Now, the unique work has been rescued, brought thousands of mile across country to occupy pride-of-place at a new home in Greensboro’s Irving Park.

How — and why — did this happen?

The phone call came early one frigid winter’s morning. “Hey, go check out this fountain. It’s really neat, and you’ll want to get some pictures while it’s partially frozen,” said loverof-the-great-outdoors Daniel Craft, who called me with the tip. He dangled a tantalizing tidbit: “There’s a great story that goes along with it.”

Having admired the striking water feature — a lotus flower — that was equal parts bronze sculpture and fountain, Craft was curious about the distinctive fountain. He contacted neighbors Marius and Hilary Andersen to learn more. He learned the mesmerizing beauty was more than a graceful fountain— it held a mystery at its heart. And its provenance spanned from Seattle to Greensboro — with a story that began 55 years ago.

More than one fountain was intertwined with its history, too, the Andersens explained.

In 1968, a fountain was commissioned from noted Washington state sculptor George Tsutakawa by developers of the Southcenter Mall and was ready for installation. Tsutakawa had designed and built scores of fountains and works of public art; this particular piece was intended for a 1-million-square-foot mall being built in Tukwila, Washington, outside Seattle. He had produced another in 1962 for Northgate Shopping Center, also in Washington.

The Tsutakawa fountain, however, went missing. It was stolen shortly after delivery at the site — before it was installed.

Hilary Andersen’s father, Don Samuelson, a Seattle native, was a young executive with Bon Marché, a primary anchor of the new mall. He remembers the fountain’s disappearance well. (And though he doesn’t have a photo of the original work, he recalls details which were well known to his daughter, Hilary, and her husband, Marius.)

“It was made in bronze, and people steal copper and bronze all the time,” relates Marius. “It could have been hauled off for scrap — who knows?”

That, too, remains a mystery, as the fountain was never recovered.

Tsutakawa was known for sculptures that fused Japanese and American styles. Among a slew of other notable works found throughout America, Canada and Japan, he designed the medals for the 1962 Seattle World’s Fair and the 1976 Spokane Exposition.

The mall developers reached back to Tsutakawa to request a replacement, but his work was in such high demand he was unable to accept another commission. Instead, his student assistant, Paul Billingsley III, also a fine artist, took on the project. The resulting fountain, a graceful lotus flower, was his own design. Naturally, he was influenced by the master artist.

“I think if you look at the lotus flower, you’d be hard pressed to say that it’s not along the lines of other sculptures that Tsutakawa made.” Not a replica of the lost original, explains Marius, but done in the spirit of the original.

Fortunately, the replacement fountain Billingsley created was safely delivered and escaped theft.

“They install it, have an opening and big party in the mall — this was installed inside the mall. Fast forward. It’s part of the mall for many years, until the mid-’90s when they’re remodeling,” says Marius. “By this time, Hilary’s dad has been an exec with Bon Marché, traveling throughout the Pacific Northwest.”

“It was probably 1996,” adds Hilary.

As fate would have it, her father, now a vice president, returned to Washington State’s Tukwila mall where he began his career nearly 30 years earlier. And he brought fond memories of the graceful fountain. He well remembered the fountain’s backstory, which was part of his own experiences, having participated in the opening celebration when the work was first installed at Southcenter.

When Samuelson learned of a scheduled remodel, he asked the mall owners what they were going to do with the fountain. Learning it was slated to be removed, he offered to buy it. His offer was accepted.

For many years, Tsutakawa’s name was renowned in the Northwest, especially the Puget Sound area, and so was Billingsley’s. The initials “TUB” had frequently appeared on Tsutakawa’s installations — “B” for Billingsley.

Billingsley earned a fine arts degree at the University of Washington, and, after a stint in the Army, returned to Seattle and worked for Tsutakawa. According to his obituary, fountains they created were displayed in Seattle, Los Angeles, Honolulu and abroad.

Hilary’s father, Samuelson, called Marius, who then lived nearby, with an S.O.S. “I need you to bring your pickup truck and help me,” he told his son-in-law.

“We took it home to his house,” says Marius. In a vintage photo, he shows the work loaded on the back of a truck.

Samuelson wanted the fountain to be saved and enjoyed. He planned to donate it to the city of Tukwila for a public space or park. As is frequently the case with donated works of public art, there are costs associated with siting a piece, maintaining and also insuring it.

Instead, the fountain landed in Samuelson’s backyard, explains Marius. “He didn’t install it with a pump as a fountain, just as a sculpture.”

At the time, neither Hilary nor her mom were sure about it. But Marius and his father-in-law were true fans.

Fast forward to 2020. The couple, founders of Creative Snacks, had relocated to the Triad.

Once their new North Carolina home was built, Samuelson, knowing how Marius loved the fountain, approached him. “He says, ‘This deserves a home. Would you want it?’” Marius relates.

But now Hilary, who had developed her eye for art, truly admired the work, too. The couple agreed, and made plans for the piece to be shipped from the West Coast to Greensboro in the fall of 2020 as they were completing their home.

“I had to get a crate built for it to be shipped; then ship it and set it up. So, this is the most expensive gift I’ve ever been given,” Marius says and shrugs with a laugh.

But once it arrived, they discovered the fountain was too big for the courtyard outside their bedroom as initially discussed. Plus, nobody would see it there.

Instead, the Andersens decided to place it in the front yard, where it was installed by the summer of 2021. Once up and running, it became an instant showstopper.

Eventually, new pieces of information flowed, too. Billingsley had died in November of 2013, and his family sought information about his works.

“My father-in-law is a Seattle native,” says Marius. “He has a Facebook presence. Paul Billingsley’s son, Peter, posts there, and asks, does anybody knows what happened to this fountain? Hilary’s dad says, ‘Hey, I know exactly what happened!’”

Samuelson tried to learn more about the artist, Paul Billingsley, and his works. Peter told him that at least two other fountains created by his father were purchased and placed in North Carolina

— possibly as close by as the Triangle or Wilmington.

He learned of Billingsley’s many talents. In addition to using his creative skills in art, Billingsley contributed to designing molds used in the fabrication of artificial bones for Pacific Research. He designed a double-keel boat, and was a prolific bluegrass musician who built his own instruments. He also designed and built his own home, and converted a VW bug into an electric car, according to his obituary.

The fact that the fountain was going to be hauled away was the part, Marius says, that deeply motivated him. A marvelous artwork might have been lost, destroyed for scrap.

“What’s wrong with people? That’s not going to happen,” he determined.

With the fountain in Greensboro, the couple realized it was originally built for indoor use. Concerned about the cold of winter, Marius went to Tractor Supply and found heaters farmers use to keep livestock watering troughs from freezing. Once in place, the heaters worked to his great satisfaction.

Ultimately, the fountain’s biggest advocate, Samuelson, traveled to Greensboro in May 2022 for a grandchild’s graduation and finally saw the fountain restored to its former glory, fully installed and operational.

“Our neighbors, Kerry and John Ellison, said ‘Thank you for this.’ The fountain reminds them of being in Aspen, given the way the light dances on the leaves. They have coffee on their porch and enjoy the white noise of it,” says Hilary.

When Hilary learned a few people didn’t necessarily like the fountain, she grew protective. “What do you mean? How can you not love it?”

But Marius likes that not everyone agreed. “I love that some think it’s terrible and some love it.” He feels that’s what art does — it stimulates.

The couple mentions other Greensboro homes with avant garde sculptures, something they have come to admire.

“We don’t pretend to be art connoisseurs,” the couple stresses. But their daughter, an artist, is attending the prestigious Rhode Island School of Design this fall.

Meanwhile, the family hopes to visit Billingsley’s other North Carolina-based fountains.

Who knows how many exist in total? When Tsutakawa retired from teaching, he undertook 60 commissions between 1960–69. That time period dovetails with when Billingsley worked beside him as a valued student assistant. An impressive body of work also includes sculptures, gates and fountains. Among others, Tsutakawa created the East Cloister Garth Fountain at the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C.

The likelihood is strong that Paul Billingsley was working alongside as these notable installations were created — and they may even bear the tell-tale “TUB” initials.

In Antique Road Show parlance, check artwork for the all-important signature — even outdoor statuary. They may reveal a surprising history and perhaps an odyssey. OH