Our Yearly Surprise

I'm writing this column a week early and by the time you read it, those wonderful Surprise Lilies may be faded and gone. But weren't they wonderful this year? The abundant rain must have been good for them, but after a couple of the really hard rains I thought our lilies had been destroyed. But the next morning most of them stood up straight again.

When I see them the first time each summer, my heart leaps up like Wordsworth expresses in his poem about the daffodils. Each year in the spring we eagerly watch for the first signs of flowers reappearing. First there are the tiny crocus blooms. Before they disappear we may see a few daffodils about to bloom, then the jonquils and narcissus plants will have appeared and brightened our landscape. Day lilies often follow and grace our ditches and fields where some nice person at some time got a few started. Iris and yucca blooms are seen next and then there seems to be a bit of a lull as far as bulbed plants go. (I'm sure some master gardeners can tell me about many more, but I am just thinking about what I see in our own lawn.)

This is when I concentrate more on the annuals that I plant myself, or buy ready to transplant into pots on our patio. There is no anticipation or wonder in these plantings because they are there because of my energy or checkbook. I get much enjoyment from them but the element of watching for the first sign of life, or trying to remember for sure just where plants may appear when the time is right is missing. The bulbed plants, even if I was the one who first put them in ground, seem more like a gift. There is nothing there but the ground and then either suddenly, as with the surprise lilies, or slowly as with the first green blades of daffodils appearing, we have some color and beauty to behold.

Then after the last of the iris blossoms disappear and only a few hardy yuccas still are blooming, we look outside and lo and behold there are one or two surprise lilies. Within days those few turn into beautiful areas filled with their pink blooms. Each year there are more than there were the year before. It can't help but cheer us up to see the sudden abundance. When we meet friends they will often share their joy that the lilies also appeared last week in their lawns.

I began to think that these plants could be a good symbol for us middle age plus folk. When we have begun to think that the bright cheerful things in our life have just about ended, we can suddenly remember all the things that are left for us to enjoy. Even if many things are over with in our life, we can still have the pleasures of middle age plus. We can bring surprises to ourselves and our loved ones in each stage of life, but unexpected fun can bring the most smiles. When there is no pressure on us to "bloom," it is more exciting to have new experiences to share.

There are many "Grandma Moses" in the world that we know nothing about. They are middle age plus people who find that they can start a new hobby, enjoy a new type of activity, or be a surprise to those around us when they see that there is growth, fun and knowledge to share even if the other things we showed in the past have faded or died. We still have some surprises left.

I didn't start my writing as a career until I was 70. My experiences as an instructor at Roads Scholar Programs have come in the past 20 years. I know many people my age who, when things had calmed down in their personal lives, realized that they had a talent for painting, or playing a musical instrument. Some of the cherished members of many church choirs didn't begin singing with the group until they were relieved of some responsibilities at home or in their primary career.

This may make me a blooming idiot, but I think I still may have a few more surprises left to show to the world, or at least to my family. The biggest surprise probably is that I'm still here.