Lily Legacy

A little pink, teardrop shape at the top of a thin green stem caught my eye this morning. I did a double take, hardly daring to believe that this was a flower ready to bloom. The flowers are bulbs that have been in our family for generations. I’ve no idea what they are called, we referred to them as Aunt Margaret’s swamp lilies. Aunt Margaret passed over to the eternal garden in the early 1990’s and I’ve no idea how long she’d had the bulbs in her possession. When she passed, my dad carted the pot home and kept them going every summer. I never paid much attention to them, my childhood backyard was a hodgepodge of pots and flowers, all pretty much the same to me.

Back Again

When my mom passed, my brother Bill took over as guardian of the bulbs and at some point, he sent me an envelope full of the small, brown orbs and told me the whole history of Aunt Margaret’s Swamp Lilies. Dutifully, I put them in a pot and waited for the green shoots, stems and finally, the delicate flowers. Amazingly, they still bloomed. I’m sure someone with more flower and bulb experience might not have been as astounded, but I felt like I had raised Aunt Margaret from the dead by way of a gardening miracle.

Bill’s Bulbs

That fall, Bill passed away unexpectedly. My last conversation with him was a discussion of how to store the bulbs for the winter. It was bittersweet joy the next spring when the bulbs once again produced a pot of flowers. That was three years ago and I’ve become a bit lax in my care of the bulbs. My timing is all over the map as far as putting them to sleep in the winter and waking them up in the spring. In spite of my cavalier treatment, the flowers have come back each year. Until this year.

Distracted Horticulture

I can’t remember what I did or didn’t do last fall with the bulbs, one of my many methods was applied when the pots came inside. Covered, not covered, trimmed, not trimmed, who knows. I was busy navigating home school remote learning with three kids so the bulbs were left to pretty much fend for themselves. Whatever the method, the bulbs were once again planted in the springish. Might have been closer to summerish. In spite of my haphazard approach, the green shoots once again pushed their way through the dirt. And then, nothing. No stems, no flowers, just the thin, green leaves. Months went by and still no flowers. I took some comfort in the green leaves, at least a part of the historic, time traveling bulbs were still with us, but I couldn’t help feeling disappointment at the lack of flowers. And guilt that after surviving for generations, I’d found a way to bring the blooming streak to a halt.

Just Add More Water

I kept watering and kept hoping. I turned to the experts on google and discovered they might not be planted deep enough. Or maybe too deep. At that point, I decided to just ride out the summer, put them to rest for the winter and hope for flowers next year. After all, 50 years is a long time and maybe they just needed a break. And then today, there it was, the tiny pink blossom. It brought such joy to my heart. I felt lighter at once again seeing the annual bloom.

Until Next Year

Because of course, it’s more than a flower. It is my memories of Aunt Margaret and her partner in crime, my Grandma Becky. My mom and dad and brother Bill. My childhood backyard. The realization that these flowers had bloomed in Missouri, then in Illinois and now, California. Amazing that one small flower can trigger a lifetime of memories, that all of those people can live on in an annual bloom. I suppose that like flowers, memories  need to be nurtured. With hope, a little luck, and more attentive gardening skills, I might just be able to bring them back for one more year. To be continued…

Regina Stoops is an award winning storyteller, comedian, writer, MS Warrior and Autism Mom living with her wife and three kids in the San Francisco Bay Area.

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