Canada Lily

Canada Lily

A hidden gate swings open

in the humid air when I see

a rare Canada lily blooming

in the understory of our woods—

because we protected it,

wrapped a wall of wire mesh

around the thick-stemmed plant

to keep the deer from feasting on it.

Four orange blossoms still stippled

with dew now hang like bells

peeled back from their clappers,

announcing the joy of their own

slow unfolding. And isn’t this

the reward for any form of love?

You make a safe place for someone

or something to flower,

and in that quiet keeping,

in that selfless tending,

some part of you ripens, too.


A few years ago, while walking in our woods, I gasped as I crested a small hill. To the left of the trail, I spotted the speckled orange bloom of a Canada lily still stippled with morning dew. The plant can take up to a decade to flower, which is why I couldn’t help but marvel, reaching out to touch that single blossom hanging there like a silenced bell. When it shriveled and died back, I waited for the pod to break open and helped to scatter the seeds throughout the understory. The next year, that same lily returned with a thick stem and leaves, surrounded by many smaller seedlings as well. Like a proud parent, I checked on it each morning, only to find one day that a deer had feasted on the mother plant, having bitten it down to the quick of the stem. Why did I feel so betrayed and devastated by this? It was just a simple, if rare, flower after all. But the following year, Brad and I took no chances. When the lily appeared, along with her children growing taller all around, we dragged small metal cages into the woods, securing them with zip ties around each cluster of tender plants. I even attached a homemade wind chime with tin cans to the cage around the mother lily, so that animals might be scared off by the noise if they got too close. For weeks, we appreciated the wild garden we had protected, until one afternoon when we sensed it was time and went into the forest together. I saw them from several feet away through a low-hanging branch—a group of four orange blossoms that had fully unfolded and now dangled over the edge of their enclosure, supported by it. We must have spent ten minutes snapping photos, trying to get just the right angle, but finally coming to the inevitable conclusion that not even the best camera could do justice to these real-life, tangible wonders before us, which we had helped to foster.


Invitation for Writing & Reflection: What else in your life might benefit from this kind of tending that others might see as frivolous, a waste of time and energy? What else might flower within each of us, if blessed with a safe space in which to grow more freely?

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I’ll be gathering a smaller group of souls on Friday, July 17th for a writing retreat that will focus on rest and release, bringing some much-needed breathing room to our lives through the practice of poetry. We’ll meet for from 12-2:30pm Eastern Time. You can sign up here if you feel moved to join me.

I also want to take a moment again to thank all of you who have contributed toward our vision of a farm and retreat gathering space here in Vermont. The outpouring of generosity has filled our hearts. We are very close to securing 100 acres of prime farmland and woods that will be conserved as soon as possible. Please consider donating here. We look forward to sharing more about this journey with you all very soon!

photo credit: Brad Peacock