The Promise of a Plant

A special daylily

Many years ago--it might have been 5 or 6 (time flies when you are old!)--a former professor at my college promised me a slip of a daylily which he had purchased and been allowed to name by a hybridizer. It was maroon and gold, the colors of the college. And so he named it after the college. It was a unique cultivar (among the tens of thousands of others), and now I have a piece of it, growing in two different spots in my yard. And so does O.

I can't believe it took me so long, but I remembered, and he remembered, too. It had to be late summer, after the daylily had finished blooming. Year after year passed and I was worried he might pass on (he is in great shape and will probably live longer than I!) before I came to claim my unique specimen.

But on August 22 we found him home and happy to share.

I also found out that he cultivates 24 amaryllis bulbs (Amaryllis belladonna) according to a strict schedule which he had learned from someone who grew them in their native habitat in South Africa, including four distinct seasons, with 6 bulbs at any given time in the blooming phase, 6 of them are set outside for new summer growth, six of them are put in cold dormancy and six of them grow in a sunny window: bloom, grow and feed, dormancy, and new growth. His dormancy period is in their house refrigerator. He said his wife is very patient with him.

I am proud of my success with one amaryllis. A corner of my cement basement floor serves as my "fridge" in the winter months, but I don't follow a feed and growth regimen after flowering, so I will try to do better with that phase. A previous post this year shows the new baby amaryllis bulb which is likely still attached and feeding off the mother, having bloomed sequentially last spring.

Anyway, I quickly found two spots for my new small rhizome clumps (we left him plenty) which get a modest amount of sun in my shady yard.

Today as the sun came out after a good and welcome 2-inch rain, I took a photo of how one of the two has sprouted new growth since August.

Yes, these little things bring me joy, my new way to reflect about choices I make. The new thought (from daughter M.) is supposed to be a conscious way of thinking about getting rid of things that no longer bring joy--like most of the things in my basement. But so far, it has been applied more to food and flowers than to all the foolishness that is my basement!

Variegated Porcelain Berry Vine

It is very hard to capture the late summer beauty of this vine that I allow to grow (more than a little out of control) on my property and at Uncle J's. I even let it invade the rosa glauca where it entwines the branches with its variegated leaves and tiny flowers which the bees love--but alas the bee population is totally diminished in the area.

This enlarged and enhanced photo gives some notion of the range of colors of the berries that adorn this vine today--all the way to a peacocky turquoise. (Yes, peacocky is a word, at least on Words with Friends!)

And so I let this invasive vine have its way in my yard, ripping it down after frost or in the spring. And every berry that is not eaten potentially creates a new plant the next year (which pulls out easily).