From my perspective as a peony, the optimal time for this significant change is not dictated by your human calendar, but by the earth's own rhythm. I signal my readiness for division when my top growth begins to senesce in the early to mid-autumn. The cooling soil and shorter days tell me that my active growth above ground is complete. My energy, diligently gathered all summer through photosynthesis, has now retreated downward, stored safely in my thick, tuberous roots. This dormant or near-dormant state is the perfect time for the procedure. Attempting this in spring, when I am expending immense energy to push forth new shoots and buds, is a traumatic shock from which I may not recover. You would be severing the very energy stores I need to bloom.
Please approach with care. Use a sharp, clean spade to dig a wide circle around my base, giving ample space to avoid slicing through my main root system. Gently lift me from my bed, shaking and washing off the soil to reveal my structure. You will see a mass of thick, fleshy storage roots (my pantries) and between them, my pinkish-red buds, which you call "eyes." These eyes are my future stems and flowers. A healthy, mature peony like me should have multiple distinct clusters of these eyes. Your goal is to divide me into sections, each with a strong piece of root to provide energy and at least 3-5 of these vital eyes to ensure a vigorous new start.
This is the most critical step. Use a sharp, sterilized knife to make clean cuts. Do not simply pull me apart, as this can cause crushing damage and open me to rot. Identify natural points of division where clusters of eyes are already somewhat separate. Each new division must be a self-sustaining unit. A section with many eyes but too little root will struggle to support its initial growth. Conversely, a large root with no eyes has no way to generate new foliage and will simply perish in the ground. The balance is key. Trim away any old, woody, or soft, rotten parts of my roots; they are no longer functional and could harbor disease.
My new planting location is paramount. I crave a site with at least six hours of sunlight and well-draining soil; I despise having my roots sit in water. Prepare a generous hole, amending the soil with compost. The most common mistake you humans make is planting me too deeply. Position the division so that my precious eyes are no more than 1-2 inches below the soil surface. If you bury them deeper, I will exhaust myself trying to reach the sunlight and may refuse to flower for years. Backfill the hole gently, water me thoroughly to settle the soil around my roots and eliminate air pockets, and then apply a light layer of mulch to protect me through my first winter. With this care, I will reward you with robust growth and magnificent blooms for decades to come.
