It’s that great part of June where my day lilies begin their celebration out in the garden, beckoning me to come out and pontificate about their joy in life, their cheerful upturned flowers, their bright and zany colors. You’ll be seeing more of them here, I assure you. A few years ago, one of my closest friends’ moms filled the back of the little car I drove back then with her castoffs, and their fluted edges and unbelievable colors are too good not to gush about. Over and over. And then some more.
Early into my gardening-at-my-own-place adventures, I shared with my dad that I just day lilies. “Ditch lilies? You love ditch lilies?” So I give you Exhibit A, a tiger lily from the needing-to-be-resituated-to-a-different-spot bed of them that’s the first thing you see this time of year when you pull into the north end of our driveway. They stand taller than my daughter, reaching for the sun and shouting out flaming praises and songs of growing. I can’t hold it against them that they have a wild rosebush, grapevines, and way too much poison ivy in their midst (hence the need for a move). I just can’t. They inspire too many smiles and warm feelings in me!
Last year, my dear, dear brother-in-law came and rescued the embarrassing bed on the side of the house and turned it into a work of beauty (infested though it is with weeds and, yes, poison ivy (it’s our weed of choice ’round these parts)). He got a tip from my own John Wayne that he should include a magnolia (happy sigh) and lots of day lilies. I thought at first these were the “boring” variety (as if there is such a thing, though some are decidedly less fancy than others). But no, he planted these yellow delights that bloom and bloom and bloom. (And inspire me to deadhead, and deadhead, and deadhead, to keep the fun going!)
