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| The first Blackberry lily bloom in my garden. |
As Mel and I walked the Polly Ann Trail, Char
and Dan Sutherby relaxed in lawn chairs by their home in downtown Leonard. Char
waved. “Stop for a visit on your way back,” she hollered.
I’d
met Char several times during events sponsored by the Friends of the Addison
Township Library. However, I didn’t know Char’s home was the green, block
cement house I admired on our walks. And I’d never met her husband.
Now
was my chance for an up-close look of their two-story farmhouse and spacious
gardens. The cool, sunny fall day offered the perfect climate for congenial
conversation.
At
last, Char announced, “The house and gardens have become too much for us. We’ll
be moving up north within the year.”
“Well,
I’m happy for you two, but sad for us,” I replied.
“Before
we leave, I’ll give you some Blackberry lily seeds. The roots are prolific, so
plant the seed where you want the flowers to steal the show. They’re small, but
mighty,” Char said.
When
the Sutherbys moved, Char handed a bag of dried Blackberry lily stems to a
friend who relayed them to me. The black seeds clustered on the stem’s end
resembled blackberries, thus the common name for Iris domestica.
Following
“full sun” directions, I invested twenty-some seeds in the garden along the
southern side of our garage. I also toyed with chance and sowed ten seeds in
the backyard lower garden in part shade.
I
offered the remaining seeds to friends and forgot the Blackberry lily until
springtime when I scouted for sprouts.
Nada.
My fellow gardeners who planted Char’s seeds reported the same disappointing
news.
Another
quick search on the internet recalled Blackberry lily seeds sometimes take
three years to germinate. Flora must possess an independent spirit to find her
place in my gardens. If this wee, orange blossom with red spots also known as “leopard
lily” refused to bloom, so be it.
Two
summers later in the midst of a sustained drought, I turned the southern corner
of the garage. There, a darling dark orange bloom lifted her little, red
speckled face upward. A Blackberry lily! No, two blooms and several buds!
Now,
my eyes and hands know every inch of that little garden, what blooms in spring,
summer, and fall. What I’d guessed a dropped and sprouted gladioli bulb had
formed perfectly fanned flags unlike that of a glad.
My solitary Blackberry lily is a member of the Iris family. This endears Char’s gift to me as another friend’s hand-me down purple irises do in the same garden. Successive bloom cheers a gardener’s heart.
And
more good news. These little freckled petals need no fertilization or winter
protection, and are drought tolerant.
Oh,
what a pleasure to find a self-sufficient guest in my garden!
Dear Reader, the
architecture of the spent bloom forms a perfect spiral, which later develops
into a seed pod.
Patiently, I wait
to observe this miracle. To harvest and share Blackberry lily seeds as Char
did.
