So one day, … oh ’round about Christmastime… I was doing dishes and looked out my kitchen window.
And then my heart just sank.
Remember Momo’s Daylilies? Remember how very much they meant to me? Well they were wilted and brown and horrendously flopped over, dead as doornails.
My Granny said that I couldn’t kill them, but I had.
Oh I knew I could get more. Granny has tons in her yard still and I’d just have to beg some more and try again next year. I was so disappointed in myself though. So disappointed, that I hadn’t even told her yet that I’d killed them. Here I had this little piece of my history, this little bit of all I hold dear, and I’d done something wrong.
Was I supposed to wrap them or mulch them or something? I don’t remember what happened to the day lillies in winter. What had my mom and grandmother and great grandmother done to protect them? Was this something I was supposed to know? I probably should have asked, but I didn’t.
Then, a couple of weeks ago I noticed the green. They’re returning. They’re still alive! It’s been days and days now and they just keep getting bigger… greener… more real every day. I’m sure other people knew that would happen, but I didn’t. I’ve never been able to keep a green thing alive this long, so it is a real honest to goodness triumph.
I’m telling you, wonders never cease. The first time I noticed those green sprouts, I knelt down right there in my front yard like a complete lunatic and cried. I laughed too, and told my great grandmother to look, “Look here, Momo! I didn’t kill them! Your flowers are going to bloom bright as ever this spring!”
Every time I look out that kitchen window now my heart does little flip flops because it’s true, it’s really true… life goes on, and spring comes again, and Momo’s day lilies will bloom once more.