Lilies can surprise

Naked lady, naked lily, magic lily, surprise lily, resurrection lily, pop-up lily; no matter what you call them the tall pink flowers with the botanical name Lycoris squamigera are springing up all over town faster than antique tractors and engines materialize at our fairgrounds in late August.
The flowers are in the Amaryllidaceae family, just like the Christmas amaryllis. And just like amaryllis, they come from a bulb. The bulbs may cause abdominal pain, salivation, shivering, nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea if consumed, so admire the blossoms, but don’t eat the bulbs.
The first time I experienced them was when my husband and I were newly married. We had purchased a house in Goshen, Ohio. In the spring we were greeted with a plethora of strapping leaves next to the sidewalk. I anxiously waited to see what kind of plant it was, but nothing happened.
I was used to seeing leaves that were immediately followed by flowers. I figured that the plants were crowded and needed to be divided and promptly dug them up. They did need to be divided as what I found under the soil were big white bulbs the size of baseballs and softballs. There were dozens of them, all snuggled tightly together.
Imagine my surprise when sometime in late August, these pink lilies popped up seemingly overnight in the spots where I had planted the bulbs. There were no leaves at the base of the stems. They had four to eight funnel-shaped blossoms arranged facing out at the tops of the sturdy stems. They didn’t seem to have much of a fragrance.
I have since learned that the bulbs hate to be disturbed and usually sulk for a year or two after being moved. It was sheer luck that the ones I replanted had bloomed that same year. When we moved to Indiana, I took some of the bulbs with us and buried them out by the corner.
The easy going plants will grow in soil with a pH of 6.1 to 7.8, which means they aren’t that fussy about pH. They easily handle our heavy clay soil and don’t mind that the only water they get comes from the sky. I have read that they don’t set seed, but they have popped up in several of the other beds so I’m not sure of the accuracy of that statement. The birds seem to delight in redesigning my flower beds and they probably decided that magic lilies needed to keep the butterfly bush company.
The spring foliage disappears about the same time the tulips and daffodils go back to sleep. Just when I am convinced that the flowers will never come back again, there they are, appearing magically overnight to dance in the garden for a few weeks.
The airy pink is a welcome change from the deep yellows and purples that predominate in the late summer and early fall. I found out this year that they also make good cut flowers. Either the wind or a passing person had broken one off and left it to die. I brought it inside and plunked it into in a vase with some water. After a week inside, it is still in good shape.
They are hardy plants, asking only to be left alone. In some respects they are like people. If they are left to their own devices, they can blossom at unexpected times. Their plain beginnings can mask future beauty. And given a chance, both lilies and people can surprise you in delightful ways.

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