Every garden has an ugly season. May 2013 I am hurled into a nightmare. I take a walk with a Dear One we love, also a gardener, and we breath, but few words. The Dear One spies the spider lilies. I ask if the Dear One would like this gift, now at a time to share as it has died back. The life is now gone from the once vibrant green blades. No. No, the dear one says. I see the face, the ashen look. Always, every May, I see the grief-stricken face.

• 2020, depression, the unwanted visitor, visits often. My gardens soothe the soul struggle. May 2020 is seven years. I have a basket of spider lily bulbs dug from where once was vigor, now lifeless. So I plant and rivulets of sweat and tears pour forth.
  I want my husband back. I want my old life back.
  

I plant the bulbs along the edge of the woods, a place on the side of the house.  Sweat and tears and no one will see this?
Was there a story about a sculptor in a great cathedral who carved intricacies no one would ever see? Only God?  God sees our grief.  Behind the smiles.  Behind the “I am fine”.  

“For you have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling; I will walk before the Lord in the land of the living.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭116:8-9‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Wintertime.  All is brown except green blades reaching heavenward toward life giving sunlight.  There is no death.  The spider lilies are thriving.  I do believe every bulb made it! 

My old life seems a lifetime away.  The once upon a time when there was someone to share the joys of family life.  Growing children and the spirited teamwork that it took.  He was the strong leader and the decisive one.  His Faith was never shaken. 

Then I see among the carpet of grass, all that is common, a darker blade, one that is distinct.  How did it get there? Not I.  A gardener many years ago and I wonder what their story was?  I pry it out and yes, a bulb. 

/

The gardener long ago planted the spider lily.  The grass grew over and there were no blooms.  The one bulb I pried out has multiplied and now I have several areas of festive blooms.  The plant performs best if divided after the foliage dies back. So this resilient little lily never really dies. October 1960 my parents were married at my mother’s home and the spider lilies were smiling as they gave the bride away to the handsome young man.  I rejoice every October as I watch the show and I see my Mom, Dad and my husband.  Who they were are with us still, sharing and touching lives, and yes, still giving.   This lily cannot be found for purchase.  One can only have this in their garden by way of gift. A gardener long ago leaves to me, and I wish to leave to you, maybe with a story and memories. 
PM me if you would like a few bulbs!