Land Of 10,000 Lilies

What do I love about a day lily? I love the ovoid shape of its petals and their spectacular sponginess. I love the not-too-symmetrical shape of the blooms. I love the smooth, strong, long stems that lean into a summer's day shouting "look at me!" I love the character it takes to stand so tall for beauty that is fleeting. I love its trumpet call to the sun, and the way it doesn't droop when the sun calls back. I love the quiet patience it displays all year for this one blaze of color. A day lily by any other name would look as awesome.

Time Clock

These lilies arrived, in full bloom, exactly a year ago in a perennial garden arrangement sent in memory of my mother-in-law. Three hundred sixty-five days later, they are a magnificent reminder of her, of her garden, and of the life-giving force of the gardens and people we love. I'm so glad they punched in.

Slugless Summer

For the past two or three years, my hostas have been made into slug salad by this time in the summer. No using a beautiful, big "Sum and Substance" leaf in my July 2010 arrange- ments. This year: hardly a slug hole--whole bouquets of luscious leaves. Did the long but not-so cold winter slow up the slugs? Does it have to do with this summer's conditions (hot and wet? seems like that would be perfect for slug growth, right?) According to the University of Minnesota Extension office, "in Minnesota, slugs usually hatch during spring or early summer. Depending on conditions, slugs may lay eggs throughout the summer. Warm, dry conditions are less favorable to them." Soooo, maybe hot and wet is just as good as hot and dry? I don't know--but I don't dare crow yet. We have at least two more good growing months during which many unfortunate events can occur. Still, I'm enjoying the lazy elegance of giant hostas this July--and keeping a slug vigil, just in case.

Why climb a trellis when there's a Miss Kim lilac handy? Clematises are famous for enjoying the company of nearby shrubs, and the shrubs usually don't seem to mind. The social climbing, however, may also be a sign that the clematis is wishing for a sunnier spot. I fear another clematis dig may be in my future. Wow--how light changes in a garden from one year to the next!

I was rewarded for pulling up spent wild geraniums in the shade garden with the discovery of this miniature arboretum in the crevice of my giant Sum and Substance. I've read about small scale gardening, but I didn't know I was actually doing it! On the other hand, I am sobered by the fact that these green wonders are probably infant box elders, or--egads!--buckthorns! Still, my heart beats just a little bit faster at the thought of nature's creative use of space, as well as her ability to speed into action. After all, I have dahlia bulbs just now coming out of the ground, and here she is, sprouting trees. How big will this garden grow? I picture the hosta leaf pinned to the soil, punctured by tree roots. Then I get real, and picture the thunderstorm scheduled for later today that will wash this tiny forest into oblivion. Thank you, wild geraniums, for getting me deep into the garden at just the right moment.

Iris time. In Minnesota, iris time is never a long time, and this year's was especially short thanks to a 2" rain. Part of what makes irises so irresistible is their delicate nature. Unfortunately, that also accounts for their short bloom cycle. One thunderstorm and they are either knocked down or soaked into slimy blobs--colorful slimy blobs, but still... I've had my issues with irises over the years, particularly with quack in irises, yet for this rush of color on a few days in June, I'm willing to make some sacrifices. And I'm already looking forward to iris time 2012.

Sonnet for a Lost Aster

You’re a plant I think I may know
though your name does not come to my mind.
Between bricks you have chosen to grow,
and your roots will be quite hard to find.

In my path you have fallen like others,
in its crevice you beautifully thrive.
Cranesbill and phox are your brothers--
how I hope I can keep you alive.

Show me your face, oh mystery flower,
tell me your likes and dislikes.
I as your keeper will use all my power
to save you from creatures on hikes.

You may be common, or you may be rare,
You may be my aster—if not, I’ll despair.