Floral family legacy

My sisters scared the beejeebers out of me yesterday. I was vacuuming in the bedroom, deep in thought, when suddenly a voice yelled out "Hello." Barbara and Laurie stood in the doorway with big smiles and certainly an impish delight of watching their older sister jump like a crazy woman.

They had come to show me my birthday present. They handed me a card, crafted on their computer which featured photos from a memorable bike ride through the Bird Refuge with our brother Jim on Laurie's birthday. Then, we walked outside where a decorative bench sat in the back of Laurie's pickup. They said they would keep it at Colburn until I was ready to come and take it for the new place.

We strolled around, looked at horses and visited. As we walked back to the pickup, I pointed to the rose bush they'd given me for my birthday several years ago. Its buds had just popped open, and the bush was putting on quite a show for this 59th birthday. That sight reminded them of the rose bush in their yard where they've placed a bench just like the one they brought for me. I had given them the rose several years ago, and it has flourished in the yard next to their house.

Since they were going shopping, my sisters asked if they could leave my birthday bench in the yard and come back to pick it up later. So, when they left, I went to get a shovel.

My plan was to dig up an assortment of flowers for them, including pansies. Barbara said the supply had been pretty grim at the nurseries so I said they might as well have some of mine, which have thrived through the cold wet spring. I also dug up a start from our yellow rosebush which covers one side of the bunkhouse, bursting with thousands of buds each early June. Bill has requested that we take some of that to our new place, so I figured my sisters would appreciate their share too.

I also separated some Iris given to me ten years ago by Kelsi Camp from her family garden. Its sweet fragrance is unmatchable and profound each year as the bluish purple blossoms put on a two-week show. I'd read in yesterday's paper that it's time to separate the Iris and the chives, so Barbara and Laurie reaped the benefits of that lesson. Their bucket of goodies was overflowing, but still there was the huge orange lily behind the bunkhouse.

I've stolen from its roots several times over the years, leaving the main plant looking virtually untouched, and I figured they'd better have a generous sample. So, that topped off the offerings for when they'd come back and get the bench. I enjoyed telling them the story of each species.

They added to my commentary, however, by reminding me that the lily came from the original North Boyer farm. It had thrived out back of the house, Laurie recalled. Like the good thief I am, I hadn't limited my pilfering to mailboxes. Years ago----probably 32---I'd stolen from Mother's orange lily and had planted it on the Upper Tibbs place where we lived for three years before coming down the road to our present home.

When we came down the road, so did a portion of the lily. Now, its parts will travel once again: to my sisters' home at Colburn and our new home in Selle. So, the floral legacy shall continue, even after its gone full circle, in family terms, that is.

And, when I think of those flowers in family terms, I can't help but think of the mother my mother barely knew. In fact, Mother brought out some photos of her mom last night who'd died near Wallace when my mother was three. She reminisced as we ate cake and ice cream around her dining room table where three of my pink peonies and one of Barbara's plum-colored roses combined for a beautiful summer arrangement.

I could not help but think that our grandmother must have been smiling at the scene, knowing that in a funny way her legacy lives on. After all, her name was Lily.