THE GIFT OF DAYLILIES

Daylilies have been a part of my life as far back as I can remember. My mother brought starts for her garden whenever we moved from one place to another and when I headed out into the world on my own, I did the same thing. As my youthful enthusiasm increased, I added many more varieties and when I reached middle age, I had accumulated quite a collection. Now I am doing just the opposite - reducing those numbers.  

The tall tawny orange daylily commonly referred to as the "ditch lily" and the short very early and very fragrant "lemon lily" were always part of my mother's gardens as we moved to new homes during my childhood. Daylilies aren't really lilies, but their familiar name is easy to understand from the shape of their blossoms and the fact that each flower only lasts for one day. Their botanical name is Hemerocallis and they are not a bulb, but an herbaceous perennial plant. The familiar tawny orange one is H. fulva and the lemon scented yellow one is H. flava. Both are species plants that probably originated in China. Some of the beautiful modern hybrids that we see in gardens today are their descendants.

Species plants were banished from my garden years ago because they tend to wander around sending underground stems out quite a distance from the main plant. They will continue to create cloned babies on these stems until something or someone stops them from spreading. That means that without a significant amount of intervention by me, other plants in the garden would be invaded and over time, completely choked out by the species daylilies. 

Modern hybrids have been bred to behave more politely and remain in clumps that slowly increase at their perimeter over time. Flower colors, shapes, and sizes have been completely transformed over many years and today's cultivated forms are spectacular in the garden. At the height of my daylily addiction, I grew well over a thousand different named varieties. That number has been significantly reduced over the past few years as I make choices about what I can and cannot adequately care for as I age. I don't feel bad about letting go of those original poorly behaved plants - I still have daylilies - about three hundred of them now. Many of these plants are my own creations and have great sentimental value. But as time marches on, I suspect that I will have more choices to make.

Sometimes, it is difficult to decide which will go and which will stay. I've come to know them all so intimately. When the hot summer weather finally arrives, I greet each one as its first flower opens, lovingly visit each day to remove the spent blossoms, and say a reluctant goodbye as the final flower of the season fades at day's end. I have discovered that the decision is best made carefully and methodically by evaluating the entire plant's performance over the course of the bloom season. A spectacular flower won't add much to the garden if there are only a few blooms on the plant. When there is a beautiful one right there in front of me, I don't pay much attention to what the foliage looks like or how many more buds are waiting to open over the weeks ahead. Visiting every day is the only way to find negative traits behind the pretty faces. I note when the first flower on a plant opens and when the last one finishes. The plants with the longest periods of bloom and the nicest garden presence are the winners. Once the bloom season is over, if the foliage will bounce back and provide a pleasant grassy green backdrop for other late blooming plants in the garden, that's another plus. I mark the plants that will be removed and dig them when my memory of their pretty faces has faded a bit. It is easier that way.

As the total number of my daylily plants decreases, the percentage of worthy plants increases.  I am removing some very good garden plants these days and feel fortunate that there are many young and enthusiastic gardeners ready to give them another chance in another garden. Seeing the delight on the faces of a new generation of daylily enthusiasts, I am transported for a brief period back in time - to when I was the recipient with the young garden. I am energized by the enthusiasm and excitement they project as they share plans for adding these daylilies to their new gardens. I hand them a daylily. I am given so much more in return. My heart is warm, my spirit happy, my soul content. What a gift!

THE GAMES OF FALL

MEMORIES OF SUMMER

The rains have begun and I am happy to have Mother Nature watering the garden again. I've put away my hoses, leaves are fluttering to the ground, and visions of Hellebores begin to dance in my head. But, it is not quite time to button everything up. There are still a few late season garden chores to take care of before  gardening season is over for this year. My number one priority will be to face my garden's nemeses. They are waiting ........... taunting me .......... daring me to venture out and do battle.

I hear them - chomping, rasping, chewing - making salad out of what used to be a lush, crisp garden full of beautiful hosta leaves. If they would stick to munching on dead and dying plant material, we could live in harmony, and I would even welcome the help cleaning up around the garden. Instead, I focus on eliminating as many as I can. Sometimes, I find them boldly basking in the morning mist on the surface of a leaf while a gang of young ones is munching underneath. I feel a twinge of glee when I locate large gatherings. At night, when it seems safe to travel under the cover of the damp darkness, loners traverse across paths and patios. I feel great satisfaction when my flashlight blows their cover.


Hostas are spreading their long, tired petioles wide, allowing their shredded, dying leaves to bend and touch the ground. The process reveals a center filled with tight, pointed "noses" that hold and protect next spring's tender new growth.  Slugs are searching for nearby cozy hide-aways to lay their eggs - maybe under a stick or a rock or just below the surface of a clod of soil. I must admit, they seem to be making good parenting choices, laying eggs in a clutch in close proximity to a food source that will also provide cover and protection when the young hatch.  The voracious little dots of slime will climb down into the plants' crowns and attack from within. Babies will be joined by some evasive stragglers who've survived many battles and some travelers from beyond my garden's borders. I'm prepared. Shed shelves are stocked with bait, scissor blades are honed to perfection, flashlight batteries abound. Cool, moist conditions combined with the ever diminishing cover of foliage brings them out like a crowd headed for a day of sunbathing on the beach. They seem oblivious to the reality that the garden landscape is about to undergo a major change - one that will provide an advantage for me in my quest toward slug elimination.


One dark night, very soon, nature will take its course and sad looking remnants of my beloved hostas will fall victim to the first bite of frost leaving nothing but big piles of mush dotting the landscape.  Like throngs of shift workers cramming in the last elevator going down at the end of a stressful workday, slugs will crowd together in the folds of the slimy layers of detritus for protection. When that becomes their only source of nourishment, they will munch on it, too. What seems like the perfect hiding place for them brings me hope for a modicum of satisfaction in my many faceted approach to slug control. I'll carefully pick up the piles and drop them into the yard debris container where slugs and slime will be hauled off to a giant, well heated compost heap. I almost want to stand out along the street waving goodbye as the container is picked up and dumped into the truck, but there is no time for celebrating. Diligence is key to winning the war and now is no time to ease up in the battle.


I am ready to continue the battle right up to the very moment winter's blast of cold air arrives. Then there will be little left above ground for slugs to dine on and they will slip deep into the soil and find a place to hunker down. There will be no foliage munching going on once Mother Nature ushers in wintry weather, freezes the earth's crust, and seals them in. Only then will I curl up with a good book and a hot cup of tea, glance out the window at the cold, frozen ground and smile from time to time. 


It has been suggested by some that I am a bit obsessive about slug control. I'll ponder that statement this winter as I strategize a battle plan from my cozy home and daydream of the perfect garden devoid of its nemeses.