Unexpected Lily

That poor lily was photographed today in my front flower bed. It popped up suddenly behind the row of little Indian hawthorn bushes. For a week it stood there in solitary splendor.

I was busy. I didn't take time to take the picture. The poor plant was battered by rain for two days. This is the result.

The point is: I did not plant this beauty. It came up from its bulb as a total surprise.

When I bought the house, there was NO landscaping in the front yard. Grass grew right up to the foundation. I paid cash for the house. I have no mortgage. I spent all the money I had left hiring a smooth-talking Peruvian immigrant to dig out the grass near the house, build a low stone barrier, fill in the flower bed, and plant those hawthorns, bridal wreath, and at the corner of the house, a handsome dark red crepe myrtle.

Crepe myrtles are the "Texas lilacs". Right now these gorgeous plants, which grow as tall as trees, are in bloom all over Dallas and its suburbs. Lining the streets, they bloom all summer, feasts of color. They bright spots throughout Garland, a "working class" town where people cannot afford professional landscaping.

This year with the drought they are not as pretty as usual. The blossoms, which do resemble lilacs, are not as numerous and are smaller than we came to expect. That's true of my red crepe myrtle, too. I failed to drag out the hose to water my plants during dry, hot June. That's another case of: "I should have done and didn't."

Then comes this lily. Unexpected. Undeserved. Gorgeous.

I could not stop the rain; I did not want to. I planted the crepe myrtle so that everyone who came down my street would see that I was a caring homeowner. Cars and pickups speed past; the drivers do not turn their heads towards my front yard. Old people taking their daily walks, and young mothers with babies in strollers sometimes pause on the front sidewalk. Older children, black, white, and brown, running and riding their bikes, they may have noticed.

I did nothing to produce the lily, but everyone who came down Meadowcrest Drive was free to enjoy it. What a blessing!

This occurred to me: something like this happens among human beings. No one can predict where a genius will suddenly pop up. It happens in all countries, on all continents, among all races. Unlike the lily, which sprang up suddenly without any help on my part, a people must treasure and cultivate its people of exceptional talent, or they will die with their promise unfulfilled. Nothing stifles genius like war.

Michael Phelps was a child with Attention Deficit Disorder, a lonely child, teased by other children. He succeeded in the Olympics because he developed a body perfect for swimming -- his size 14 feet are like fins. But remember: he became a swimmer because as a child his mother recognized his problems and took him to the pool.