You canna fail with these lilies ... can you?
They say some plants are goof-proof. We’ll see about that.
If you have any kind of garden or planters, you’ve probably been waiting, like me, for the temperatures to head up so you can get at them.
One glorious day on the long weekend was enough; I hauled on my gardening clothes and got outside. I’m still not risking gardening centres except for a curbside pickup, so I did what I usually do. I shopped from things I already had.
My sister Gilly is amazing with plants, and her yard looks like something you pay someone to do for you. Last summer, I was blown away by these giant leafy things she’d used as a backdrop to their seating area. I thought they were fake. They were real, and they were magnificent. A few weeks ago, she showed up with a bag of bulbs.
“These are the canna lily bulbs you wanted,” she told me. “I texted you.” I hadn’t looked at my phone in days. I glanced at it, and sure enough, she’d sent a photo of them, letting me know she’d be dropping them off. She’d written other things under the picture, but I didn’t read that part. I’d check later.
“Oh, those big tree things?” I asked, poking dubiously at the odd-shaped cylinders. I thanked her, put them aside, and waited for warmer weather.
With the sun finally showing itself, I grabbed a pitchfork and started prepping the bed where I wanted to grow my own wall of canna lilies. I’d failed miserably with sunflowers in the same spot last year, but not this time. Canna lilies divide like crazy. Gilly told me come fall, I’d have five bulbs for every one I’d planted. I like this kind of return on my plants. I would outdo my sister. I would produce a
forest of canna lilies.
I carefully dug holes, guessing how far apart they should be. The bulbs were all shapes and sizes, some with little sprouty bits on the ends. I dropped the first one in the hole, trying to remember what my Dad had taught me about planting bulbs. I’d planted tulip bulbs upside down once and he’d laughed at me after he’d yelled at me.
I made my way along the row, carefully making a perfect line of future lilies. I imagined them against the fence, ready for the summer, dancing in a gentle breeze. I still had a few left over, so I put them on the other side of the yard. I moved on to shifting some hostas around and ferreting out tiger lilies that continue to leap their boundary and make a run for it through the grass. By the time I was done, I was exhausted and filthy. I knew it was worth it though. I had Gilly’s picture to remind me.
Back inside, I got to thinking about those bulbs. I thought about those long-ago tulip bulbs. I YouTubed canna lilies. I watched a short how-to video. I’d planted them upside down. I think. I couldn’t really remember. I grabbed my phone and saw that Gilly had provided a step-by-step procedure for planting them because she knows her sister.
I pulled my muddy jeans back on and headed out again. I thought it would be simple to see where each little mound was. It was not. Nope, I’d tampered those suckers in really well. I stuck in my little shovel and started trying to find the bulbs. I worked carefully, like I was Dr. Leakey in the Olduvai Gorge.
I found the first one. Upside down. I fixed it. Dug up the next one. Sideways. It would appear I am not even consistent in my screw-ups. I can’t wait to show Gilly my glorious wall of canna lilies later this summer.
She remains uncertain.