I remember seeing three surprise lilies (aka “naked ladies,” “resurrection lilies”) last summer right by the steps of my front porch. Was enchanted, the way they rose up, one long slim stalk that ended in a beautiful bud which bloomed.

And, because of the name, and because I certainly was surprised, I thought this meant that these lilies could rise up anywhere at any time. That they’d always surprise.

Then, this year, I saw a single stalk rise up about ten days ago, in a different garden out front. Was delighted to think that it chose my yard to bloom again, and watched excitedly day by day, as the stem grew longer and longer, the bud swelling, opening, and finally, to bloom.

But then, wait a minute. Other stalks were rising up around it!

And, wait a minute! There’s some stalks rising up over there, about ten feet away.

And WAIT A MINUTE! The place where they rose last year is again inhabited, by surprise lilies coming up prolifically.

Geez! What does it mean?

I decided to research them, and discovered that they are not spread by birds, as I had assumed. How could they be? They don’t grow from seeds, but from bulbs, which are two to three inches long! No. The bulbs are planted, by people. That means me. Huh? If so, when? Did I really plant surprise lily bulbs the autumn prior to the first ones that popped out last summer?

Besides, why are they then called “surprise lilies,” if their bulbs have to be planted?

Because, it turns out, they put out leaves in early spring, which then die off, with the flowering stalk seemingly appearing out of nowhere in either late July or August. Check. That IS what happened.

I looked up “surprise lily leaves” and found a photo.

 

Aha! I remember those leaves, and that I knew instinctively not to weed them out. But I sure had no idea that their presence signaled that a lily would bloom later in the summer, months after the leaves had died off.

Also, I wondered: Could it be that their bulbs can stay in the ground for many years before flowering? That would explain them, assuming they were planted by whoever owned this house 20 years ago . . . But no, The bulbs may not flower the first year, but they definitely will the second year.

So .  .  . I planted the bulbs, apparently, though I have no memory of doing so. You’d think I’d remember, because apparently I planted them in three different places!

I looked up how they propagate themselves, because surely they do. What started as three surprise lilies the first year, turned into 53, so far, this year.

And I’m still a bit perplexed by the fact that only three came up last year, in a single place, whereas entire clusters came up this year, in three widely separated places. Wouldn’t they have all shown up in the same year? Makes me wonder if the gardening explanations are somewhat off.

This entire saga reminds me of many things. But especially:

1) How I can make assumptions that can turn out to be entirely wrong. (“Surprise” had a different meaning than I had given it.)

2) How so many times in my life, something starts to grow, and not just flowers, but movements, decisions, and so on. Even this little Green Acres Permaculture Village: it began with a single decision, a single bulb planted. Or did it? And besides, what was that single decision? Was it when I moved here with my husband, then he died, and I stayed on, not knowing why (2003)? Was it when I took the permaculture course (2005-06)? Was it when I decided to take in two housemates, in order to lighten my energy imprint (2005? 2006?)? Was it when I bought the second house (2008)? Or when I started the permaculture workshops that created the main garden (2009)? Was it when so many people had started to gather for, not just workshops, but for dinners and other social events that we realized the garden itself was a subset of community, and that we were “growing community from the ground up” (2011? 2012?)?

Though it appears that gardeners can give linear chains of cause and effects for plants, I wonder if they at times cover over what’s really happening with their logic. Because, in the case of the surprise lilies: though I may have planted the first bulbs two years ago (as I say I don’t remember, but I have planted bulbs before that never came up), why did the second and third clusters only appear the second year after the first one did? Because I know damn well, that I wouldn’t have planted surprise lilies in successive years. That, I would have remembered.