I’m not very good at remembering dates, but I do remember the seasons and flowers that were blooming at certain events in my life.
I know my dog Lestat, who I got when I was 19 years old, died in the early summer because I planted blooming Lupines on his grave. When I see the primroses in the front yard bloom, it reminds me that it’s the time of year that Jon had his open heart surgery. I know our Boston Terrier, Gus, died in the late winter or early spring because the ground was still frozen and we had to wait to month or so to bury him. And I know Frieda died when it was warm enough out for leaves to be on the trees, because I remember how green the woods were when I scattered her ashes there.
This morning I saw the Naked Ladies had bloomed.
These lilies, which I had never seen until we moved to the farm, are just a bunch of bushy leaves in the spring, then disappear till one day, in late summer, they pop up out of the ground, their pinkish/purple flower reaching for the sky, with hints of blue and yellow, on a naked stem.
I aways think of them as “old” flowers. The ones that survive untended, like iris and peony.
Now the blooming Naked Ladies, will always remind me of when Red died. A good flower for Red, beautiful and dependable, old souls of the garden.