And how did I not know this? The flowers of some peonies / all peonies / only this one peony close at night. Here's Emily Scout just an hour after I shot her for today's One-Minute Max.
Whoops, "Shot her"? That's certainly a violent double entendre. What about "Here's Emily Scout just an hour after I 'Flipped' her"? Worse still. You don't know Emily like I know Emily.
Last try: "Here's Emily Scout an hour after my 'One-Minute Max' on her." Oh never mind. The petals have folded back together for the night. Emily is asleep, as soon will I myself be. Separate beds of course.

Now that I've got her on my mind, my Emily Scout peony—yours too I'm sure—is proving to be a fast-moving girl. Last night, she was drawn demurely together for the night. This morning, though, she was up and at 'em; by the time I'd thought to take another picture, at noon, dear Emily was quite splayed and droopy in the unusual early-May 80's.

Weren't we all.
The days are late by now, so Emily would have normally been open past 7. But at 4:30, heavy clouds rolled in for some showers. Rain is a change of plans, and she furled before the first drops.
Indeed, all the Emilies were tucked in safely.
As Scarlett O'Hara says, "Tomorrow is another day." Ah Emily, I'll be up early myself, not least to greet you properly. There can't be more than a day or two more of your dramatic and, uh, quotidian performance. Respect must be paid.
Which reminds me: There's a peony called Scarlett O'Hara, and I've got her too. (Despite the "scarlett" thing, she's happy in the Pink Borders.) Scarlett is later than Emily—no surprise there—so I won't see her bloomers I mean blooms for a few weeks.
I wonder if she's as eager a performer.