My sister was ill for nearly 20 years living across the state from me, in Washington, right where the tulips are photographed each spring in Skagit County. My visits were so important for me, as I love her to death, and they were filled with many chores as attempts to keep up with her house, and yard that she could no longer do. One year, she insisted I dip up some 3 to 4 ft clumps of daylilies. They were not too happy, but she liked them, I could not even remember their bloom, and am feeling sorry for who ever she is giving them to. It was October, the wind was howling and it was raining sideways, I was chilled to the bone, wet and covered in mud from slipping off the shovel twice as I pounded through thick cement like roots. By the time I finally got 5 little clumps out, I had mud in my hair, my nose, shoes, and was sure to be sore in the morning. I left the next morning, she had a bag and said take your daylilies, I want you to have something growing in your yard to remember me by. I thought I had much better reminders than beast of a plant whose flowers die the same night they open. They were a literal pain in my butt, with bruises to prove it. I did not really want them in my yard. I reluctantly planted them, and have kept them under only decent care. I lost her this year. This once ugly flower is the most precious sight I have, and I cannot wait to deadhead it and stand in what is now a huge patch, and feel her there.
