Before she was born, we knew her name would be Lily. At her baby shower, where she was still safely ensconced in my Granddaughter Alyssa's womb, we were all given a small lily plant. I brought mine home and put it in the ground, hoping it would survive. Not only did it survive, it has flourished, each year increasing in the amount of blooms. I count at least fifteen blossoms in this photo with forty or more buds. They seem a bit paler pink this year than last, but maybe that's my imagination.
Lily was my first great-granddaughter. She turns five years old Saturday. Her lilies always bloom just in time for her birthday. The following poem is my favorite about lilies, albeit a different type than Lily's Lilies.
Water Lilies by
Sara Teasdale
If you have forgotten water lilies floating
On a dark lake among mountains in the
afternoon shade,
If you have forgotten their wet, sleepy
fragrance
Then you can return and not be afraid.
But if you remember, then turn away
forever
To the plains and the prairies where pools
are far apart,
There you will not come on dusk at closing
water lilies,
And the shadow of mountains will not fall
on your heart.
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