The tiger lilies are in bloom, and they always bring childhood memories to the surface. Mother was a gardener, she never ordered from catalogs, or bought from nurseries, she got “starts” of plants from friends, or she dug plants by the side of the country roads, and as a result, our yard was a riot of color in the summer.
My beloved ditch bank was covered in tiger lilies, started from a few plants, and over the years multiplying until the whole bank was a mass of orange color in the summertime. We had no hose, no running water, we would carry buckets nightly to water the plants, she always took care of her plants, regardless of how tired she was.
The older I get, the more I admire her strengths, and her talent. She lived off the land, and enjoyed the beauty of nature in the plants that she nurtured year after year. I don’t have tiger lilies, but they always make me smile when I see them, and I think I need to tuck just one plant into my garden. A pop of orange color amongst all the pinks, just to remember my roots, where I came from and how strong I now am, in large part because of her…
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