Back in March, there were promises for the spring and summer. Daffodils trumpeted warmer days. Wide straps of lily foliage announced where summer bulbs might bloom. Wisps of fragrance led the nose on treasure hunts. Trees began to wake with a slow fuzziness and nubbins hinted of leaves to come.
I carefully marked my calendar with anticipated dates; those regular irregular events which occur until September's Labor Day. Family weekends, art days, alumni activities, and concerts in the park, along with enough vacation weeks and days in the country to make things interesting. Just enough. Gonna be a good summer, I thought.
So in July, when I thought I knew what to expect, I was surprised at the sudden appearance of pink buds at the end of long skinny stems near the edge of the Green. I couldn't remember what should be there. Yet, there they were; right in the middle of summer -- the elegant pink lilies, their wide green foliage discarded days ago. The Naked Ladies.
"But, I have made plans! I have work to do! I have people to see, grandchildren to enjoy, paintings to create . . ." I thought. No matter. I checked the blooms in morning sunlight, in the slanting sunset and under cloudy skies. Like other things which pop up on summer days, they demanded my attention . . . .
Scheduled adventures were interrupted by stops in the Emergency Room. . . .
House projects resulted in a few injuries. . . .
The sunsets took longer or were more glorious or had more color than usual. . . .
NOT ONE could be ignored.
And that is the Problem with Naked Ladies.
BushStrokes (c) AAB