‘Reflections in Time’ (Salter 2002)
Up front, I’ll tell you . . . if you’re already there, I can’t help you. The first two years I was seriously “into” daylilies, I nearly lost my mind, and the children’s inheritance, but I do know the signs:
- You join the local Hemerocallis club and pester everyone looking for a particular cultivar.
- When not hitting them up for a plant, you wander amongst the members trying to absorb all their knowledge. It is hard. You wish you could do mind meld a la Star Trek.
- You invite yourself to their gardens and walk around with pen and pad to write down all the names. They don’t mind. They’re addicted too. Hours pass, and your family wonders if you’re ever coming home.
‘Ivory Parasol’ (Apshear 1991)
- You ask your new friends if they sell out of their gardens. They say “Sure,” and ask you which one. You point, and they tell you it’s a $100 or $250 plant. They would love to sell it to you, but they only have a double fan. You’re relieved, but plot to get one too.
- You see another. Gulping, You ask them if they will trade. They kindly smile and ask what you’d like to trade, and you thrust out an unnamed orange daylily you dug that morning from your garden bed. While trying not to laugh, they tell you it’s a ditch lily. They kindly give you a fan or two of ‘Fairy Tale Pink’ to take home. (It’s a great increaser and an old favorite.)
‘Raspberry Winter’ (Trimmer 1999)
- Undaunted, you leave with daylilies dancing in your head, and that night, you dream the sweetest of dreams.
- You hear about the Lily Auction, and you begin to troll it every morning at 6:00 a.m. for a “deal.” After all, it’s still dark outside, and you can’t take photos. When your children ask you for breakfast, your eyes never leave the computer screen as you motion vaguely with a hand toward the refrigerator and mumble “cereal.” (Wait a minute, that sounds like blogging.)
‘No More Tears’ (Emmerich 2003)
- You begin traveling on tour buses once a year to regional meetings where you scoop up the latest cultivars given to attendees. Better yet, you start bidding on regional auction plants.
- You lovingly plant these jewels in containers and watch over them like an anxious mother until September when it will be no longer be too hot in Oklahoma to plant them. (Plant them in mid-summer, and you’ll be shading their tender roots with all kinds of materials like cardboard boxes tilted on chairs and plastic trash can lids.) Your garden now resembles the local dump, but you don’t care.
‘Outrageous’ (Stevens-D 1978)
- Your fondest dream is to travel to the National Convention (held in Houston this year.)
If you already have two of the signs, there’s still hope. An intervention may be needed. Does anyone know of a daylily hotline? A twelve step program?
If you have three or more signs, there’s no medicine. The only cure is time.