I’m working on a talk I’m giving to my local daylily group this weekend. When they asked me earlier this summer, they said I could talk on any subject I wanted–a dangerous proposition for someone so talkative to be sure–but I appreciate their confidence. Talks take a lot of time and thought before coming to fruition.
You see, I’m not all about daylilies at my house. I love so many plants, and the sweet genus Hemerocallis only blooms so long. We need other plants to fill our days and garden beds when daylilies don’t bloom. You can insert any other group of plants for which you have a passion. I’ve come to realize, after indulging in way too many love affairs with various genera, it’s probably best for us and the environment if we’re never all about any “one” thing. Only growing roses, grasses, daylilies, tulips, or daffodils is also a bit boring. Don’t you think?
You can do this and complement your beloveds. Daylilies in particular seem to love sharing space with grasses, roses, vines, bulbs and other beautiful plants. They even like natives, and the native plants like them.
I hope I encourage some of my daylily friends to break up their borders of hem goodness and fill them with additional plants that bloom during other seasons and feed the small creatures in our wild spaces too.
For that is what gardens are . . . wild spaces of danger and delight, and when we get over wanting to control our small ecosystem with a lawn mower, clippers and other things, we find we are looking at a wild and wooly universe at our fingertips–full of small, daily battles of waged by tiny creatures upon each other and sometimes, our plants.
The insects sip nectar or chew holes in leaves and flower, then fight each other and die. Birds and lizards eat insects and are sometimes eaten themselves by larger predators. Especially at night, the garden is full of mystery and mayhem.
Lately, Oklahoma afternoons have been as sweet as that first strawberry on spring tongues. Our days dawn cold, and I pull on a soft and warm jacket to walk the paths of my own small habitat. I can’t do much to change the course of human events, but I find my contributions to our family, my church, our pets, Maddie, Tap and Sophie, and even the small creatures close to the Earth and the birds of the air matter. Let’s hope each of us will be missed when we are gone.
As I ponder these things, I put bird seed in the feeder. I check on the chickens, gather their eggs and throw them some corn in return. I break off the tender stalks of mums that perished in the first freeze.The wild and woolly wind ruffles my hair, and I realize I’m blessed to see another day. Another day that I can share with you.