The Regal Lilies in my antique bowl Reveal a song, I see them etched upon an ancient scroll With leaf and prong. A simple altar and a sculptured tomb Display their grace… I find them stitched upon an old heirloom Of fragile lace, They crown the Virgin, babe, and fireside shrine With halos bright, And in each human heart they are divine Symbols of light.
And peace they bring into an aching breast Sweet as the lilies are, so sweet the rest.
Regal lilies in a bowl Whose fragrance feeds my soul, Blend with two waxen candles Tipped with gold. And I compare The ivory pages of an open book That lay serenely there. Close by, A Buddha calmly sits With desire in his mystic eyes, He gazes at the waxen candles Because no light flames From their golden tips. All this is light to me! Born of earthly fire…
As you proceed through these photos, you may notice how I varied the lighting — from backlighting, to sunlight from above, to mostly shade, to bright sun with shady backgrounds, and finally to light filtered through nearby trees. Pause for a moment and consider how different kinds of lighting alter your perception of the flowers’ colors and shadows, but also how the texture of the flower petals looks different in each of these conditions.
“It took the young Wilson six months to journey from England to China via the United States; here he took the opportunity to visit the Arnold Arboretum to learn about the latest techniques in plant collection, packaging and transportation….
“Wilson’s first journey was such a success and he returned with so many excellent garden-worthy plants that in 1903 he was engaged a second time by the Veitch Nursery for a further two years. In 1907 and again in 1910 he returned to China, collecting this time on behalf of the Arnold Arboretum. He became so identified with the area and was such a successful plant collector that he was often referred to as ‘Chinese’ Wilson, but his last journey to China nearly cost him his life and left him with a permanent limp….
“It has been estimated that Wilson introduced into Britain between 2,000 and 3,000 different species of seed, and many more herbarium specimens; from the seeds, at least 1,000 new plants have been introduced into cultivation…. “Possibly the most gorgeous is the Regal Lily, Lilium regale, the plant which was the indirect cause of Wilson’s ‘lily limp’. This amiable and accommodating lily, as the writer Alice Coats called his introduction, was first grown in 1905 under the name L. myriophyllum (meaning ‘many leaves’), but even though it was easy to cultivate and sweetly scented, it did not become as popular as Wilson thought it should.
“He was so keen for people to share his enthusiasm for this splendid lily that on his fourth expedition to China, in 1910, he travelled yet again from Shanghai to the borders of Tibet, where he had first found the flower, a trek of over 3,200 km (2,000 miles). The site was a remote mountain valley, and the journey to it was through some of the most difficult and desolate country….
“As Wilson himself said of the route undertaken, it was ‘absolute terra-incognita’. It is a mark of his enthusiasm that he braved this arduous journey again just so that the western world could share in the delights of the Regal Lily. Its gentle beauty and graceful habit absolutely defy its natural home; Wilson recorded in his diary that ‘no more barren and repelling country could be imagined’, but when the lovely lily burst into flower, the landscape was transformed, as he then noted, from ‘a lonely semi-desert region into a veritable fairyland’….
“It was on the return journey that, in trying to escape one of the frequent landslides, Wilson broke his leg. The remaining rigours of the journey, the delay in treatment and the subsequent infection setting in resulted in his almost having to have his leg amputated; in fact, he nearly died. In due course, he returned to America where the infection was finally cured and the leg saved, but Wilson was left, for the rest of his life, with his ‘lily limp’.”
Eighty-seven and ninety-two sat together listening to old songs songs from youth memories of dancing with long lost mates.
Eighty-seven tall and stately dark hair turning gray crinkled laughter lines dressed in muted orchid amethysts and diamonds singing the words to every remembered melody.
Ninety-two tiny and erect white hair closely waved complexion lightly etched neatly dressed in gray enhanced by white singing softly cheeks slightly flushed.
Eighty-seven and ninety-two an original bouquet not seniors, not aged, a royal, regal lily and delicate, dainty rose.
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This is the first of two posts with photographs of Regal Lilies (Lilium regale) from Oakland Cemetery’s gardens. As you might be able to tell from the first three photos below, these lilies displayed an exuberant mass of flowers, stems, and leaves, so much so that it was a challenge to isolate a few individual flowers for close-up photography.
I had photographed these Regals a couple of times before (see, for example, Summer 2020: Lily Variations (1 of 10) and Lilies on Black Backgrounds (8 of 10)) — where I took the photos from some distance, since these lilies are in a terraced section of the garden, on a grassy stretch above a four-foot stone wall and set back about twenty feet from the public walkway. I hadn’t previously thought about climbing up to get a closer look — one is sometimes unsure about stomping too close to the flowers — but this time I made myself invisible (as Photographers sometimes do) and sneaked up onto the terrace to push my camera into the lilies.
With so many opened flowers, their perfume filled the air and was intoxicating, almost dizzying… and I spent about an hour photographing these beauties, until I saw one of the garden caretakers coming into view and thought I should maybe scram. I felt a wee bit like Ernest Henry Wilson — whose dangerous explorations, excerpted above, led to the introduction of Lilium regale to Britain — but I didn’t get stuck in a landslide or come home with a limp.
From “The Lily Family and its Relatives” in The World of Plant Life by Clarence J. Hylander:
“The true Lilies… include some hundred north temperate species of large and beautifully flowered plants, of which the United States has a generous share. Few plants are so delicately and strikingly colored….
“Many of the native species are cultivated for their showy flowers, but in addition there have been introduced many familiar varieties. The common Easter Lily, grown to such an extent in Bermuda, is a native of China and Japan; its waxy-white blooms hardly need description. The Madonna Lily, a white-flowered species from southern Europe and Asia, is thought to be the lily so frequently referred to in the Bible; its flowers are smaller than those of the Easter Lily….”
“L. longiflorum comes originally from the Ryukyu Islands, and until the entire lily crop was wiped out by disease, was much grown in Bermuda. In the author’s youth, Easter or Bermudan lilies, as they were then called, were used by the thousand for party decoration, and in the ‘thirties, white lilies, with blue Echinops Ritro, the Globe thistle, arranged in square glass accumulator jars, were as popular as floral decoration as hosta leaves and Alchemilla mollis are today. L. longiflorum, as classic a lily as the Madonna, with its perfectly proportioned flowers with delicious scent, is still an appropriate flower for any occasion.”
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This is the second of two posts featuring summer-blooming Easter Lilies (Lilium longiflorum) from Oakland Cemetery’s gardens. The first post is Long-Legged Lilies (1 of 2). As with the previous post, I found these lilies growing in odd places throughout the gardens, mostly on single stems, except for those toward the center below — where their very tall stems sported a cluster of three blossoms rivaling the height of tree branches nearby.
“Native to a slender slice of East Asia, stretching from Japan to the Philippines, Lilium longiflorum is charming, fragrant and decorative. What’s more, it punches way above its weight on the floral world stage due to its adoption as the ‘Easter’ lily, a symbol of hope, purity and resurrection in the Christian faith….
“The large flowers are delightful, with perhaps half a dozen carried atop a stem clad in glossy, dark green leaves. Each long, white trumpet is palest green at the base, fading to white, while the central stigma, stamens and anthers are a faded, buttery hue.
“Left to its own devices, L. longiflorum and its cultivars would bloom in summer — usually between June and August in much of the northern hemisphere. But to perform at its best at Easter, the bulbs are forced. This is done by keeping the potted bulbs in cool temperatures – they need a period of chill in order to flower — and once they are in growth, the amount of light and warmth they receive is moderated to control bloom time….
“When potted Easter lilies have finished flowering, you can plant them out into the garden. Acclimatize the plants gradually before removing the pot, loosening the roots and settling them into the soil. The stem-rooting bulbs may take a couple of years to recover, but should flower at the normal time when they are ready.”
From “It Took Me a Moment to See” by Michael Moss in Minnesota Writes: Poetry, edited by Jim Moore and Cary Waterman:
North on Minnesota 59, hungry for the company of strangers, I drive past the barren golf course, the airport deserted at dusk, the abandoned missile silos, Oak Lake and Lower Badger Creek to the Third Base Supper Club; concrete deer grazing the dead lawn, pink Styrofoam flamingoes framing the Mediterranean door…
On the juke box Johnny Cash sings I’m a Hero, then Jerry Lee Lewis rocks Great Balls of Fire. Two migrant workers, a man and a woman, get drunk on Gallo, forget their food, their shack, the sound of their truck, forget their children’s voices, the reason they crossed the border. Wheat farmers in starched white shirts break bread with their huge hands. A late Easter lily blooms on the bar….
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I came across a single white lily flower at Oakland Cemetery’s Gardens in early June, the blossom sitting all by itself at the top of a very long stem, much of it hidden from view until I walked around the headstones. There were no other flowers right nearby, so it commanded attention — and got me wondering if I could find others hiding out all by themselves around the property. This post — and the next one — feature variations of Lilium longiflorum that I found in odd places, all with a single flower or small cluster of flowers that had stems so long they appeared to be hanging from trees or emerging from shrubs nearby. In one of the photos, I got photobombed by a lily sneaking a peak; if you find that one and enlarge it, you might think the lily is smiling at you.
I’ve often been hesitant to call these “Easter Lilies” — their common name — because it seemed to me that “Easter Lily” ought to refer to a flower that bloomed much earlier in the season… you know, around Easter. So I was glad to learn about the blooming difference between those we see in early spring — typically in pots or vases — and those we see in gardens later during the summer, as described in the quotation at the top of this post. I guess the right approach would be to call them Easter Lilies when we see them around Easter, but use their full name Lilium longiflorum when we see them during the summer. Maybe we could call the summer versions “Lily Longlegs” since their stems are so long, or follow the origins of their scientific name (where longi means “long” and florum means “flower”) and dub them “Lily Longflower” instead!
(P.S. It’s possible that some of these are Madonna Lilies (Lilium candidum) rather than Lilium longiflorum, but it’s hard to differentiate between the two given the angles of some of my shots.)
“This large family is found in all parts of the world, but especially in the northern temperate regions. It varies so much that some botanists think it should be split up into several families.
“Roses are probably the best known and best loved of all garden flowers. But, though they have given their name to the family, they form only a very small part of it. Much more important to man are the fruit-bearing trees: apple, pear, cherry, plum, peach; and the berry-covered vines: strawberry, black-berry, raspberry. Almond fruits look much like apricots, but their seed is the nut we eat. Rose fruits (hips) are edible and were used in England during World War II as a valuable source of vitamin C.
“Medicines are derived from a number of the plants in this family: almond, wild-cherry, peach, blackberry. The leaves of burnet are a delicate addition to salads. And the wood of some trees — cherry, apple — is valuable for furniture and engraving.
“Our gardens and countrysides are full of beautiful members of the family…”
Light splashed this morning on the shell-pink anemones swaying on their tall stems; down blue-spiked veronica light flowed in rivulets over the humps of the honeybees… this morning I saw light kiss the silk of the roses in their second flowering, my late bloomers flushed with their brandy. A curious gladness shook me….
Hello!
This is the second of two posts featuring a variety of early summer roses from Oakland Cemetery’s Gardens. The first post is Some Perfect Roses (1 of 2). For the photos in this post, I zoomed in for a close look at some of the details of individual flowers, filling the frames with rose petals and buds.
I was recently amused to learn that what we call rose “thorns” are technically not thorns at all, but the botanically correct term is “prickles” — because there is a scientific difference between thorns, spines, and prickles, described in some detail in the article How Did a Rose Get Its Prickles? Well, maybe so, but rewriting the famous Poison song to Every Rose Has Its Prickles doesn’t quite work, does it?
