July 1

Always a special day in the middle of the calendar year, very early summer, delicious, paradise, dreamed about all year, and not yet so hot or droughty that it makes us lax or gives us headaches or the cicadas keep us up all night. So with appreciation, here's the creek and its creekbed wildflowers, Queen Anne's Lace and phlox and junk lily, and also an Allium head that's past peak but still beautiful, like so many people we know.

How to Tell If They're Junk Lilies

LaBarque Creek was once beautifully edged with wild lilies in June and July, and when construction came I dug up some of their corms -- which look like fingers of ginger -- determined to save all I could, unaware they were mere "ditch lilies" or "junk lilies," and planted them around the house and then ignored them. Thirteen summers later it's their yard, not mine.

Because they're so common and called junk lilies I'd assumed they were native, but there are no lilies native to the Americas, or Europe either; they're originally Asian and have spread through gardening. Junk lilies and their corms are so hardy they'll go without water and sun (there's no sun in this corner of my yard) and they multiply like mad -- spreading from underground, because they have no seeds. I'll dig up some corms for you, and you'll never have to plant expensive annuals again. Or water them. Deer won't eat these.

"Genuine" lilies are from a different botanical family, Liliae; those bloom at the very top of their stalks, while Hermocallis fulva (the junk lily) blooms from the sides of main stalk. Junk-lily blossoms last one day, presenting all of us with a unique moment in history and a spiritual lesson. A tiger lily (Lilium columbianum) with its poppy-seed spots is a lovely thing, but lacks the daylily's exuberance. Did I know any of this before I moved out here, near the creek? None of it.

My Beautiful Mistake

A treacherous stretch of rural Highway F ran in front of my house, and on slippery-weather days I eyewitnessed imprudent drivers skating their cars off the road, landing them upside down or sideways in the shoulder. For the first few I called the police. The cops wanted only to be called if there were injuries. The drivers, mostly kids and uninsured, wanted to see anybody but cops.

The turn from F into and out of my lane was entirely blind. Gathering courage, I would commit and stomp the pedal and by the grace of God was never hit. My neighbors at that time needed the firetruck and it could not make the turn. Thus in 2002 this section of F was raised and widened. This property lost an acre and some old sycamore trees, half the sandstone glade, a shady rill with a tiny waterfall in which birds bathed and drank. Blasters took great hunks of the cliff and pictures fell from my wall. This took two months. The road was closed just 600 feet from my house and for a month was impassable. Putting my car in my driveway required an 18-mile detour. The charming, crumbling one-lane bridge was replaced.

Before it was replaced, I went down to the creek edge and dug up some of the daylilies there that I thought were so beautiful, to save them. Fulvous Daylilies (Hemerocallis Fulva) are in fact invasive "junk lilies," botanical terrorists hated by gardeners and eco-people. I planted them next to my house, where they thrived and delight me every summer, spreading by runners, taking over the side yard and the soil clinging to the cliff top. Now I have several hundred. Each daylily blooms for one day. There's a message for me there. It is the most beautiful mistake I ever made.