By Betsy Gonwa, 
As I am bringing in the mail, the fragrant scent of the Asiatic lilies envelops me. I feel like I am in a magic cloud, created by the wave of a magic wand, transforming this spot for me just as Cinderella’s fairy godmother did for her. For the moment, nothing is more important to me than enjoying the beauty of the Asiatic lilies. I deposit the mail inside, and return, a lawn chair in hand. For some reason, the aroma is the strongest when standing just outside the breezeway door. Sitting in the chair, the cedar chips compete. But nothing competes for the attention of my gaze. My eyes see only the beauty of each blossom.
My first encounter with Asiatic lilies was 23 years ago. It was my first year in a new house and I was unaware of what would become of the spiky green stems sprouting in the soil outside my front door.
I admire their petals, and the finely formed slender stamens. One blossom in particular claims my attention. It is a deep red, and the petals are so new that the edges are still moist. I look at it like I am Georgia O’Keefe, observing the various streaks and tones of red and noting how the deeper shades contrast with the brighter hues. I see the powdery pollen at the base of the petals and imagine a bee’s behind rubbing up against them. I stay so long that droplets of water from the recent rain begin to dry up and diminish in size.
Depending on the weather, what route the neighborhood deer choose, and how diligent I am with my homemade cayenne pepper spray all factor into my ability to enjoy these lilies. Another component that factors in is whether I am at home. I usually am not.
The last week in June often means Father’s Day, the blossoming of the Asiatic lilies and, for over 30 years, it has also coincided with our family’s annual vacation. Usually at this time of year, we are on the road. But camp was canceled this year. Instead of driving 500 miles across the prairie, eating breakfast at the Perkins by the Mississippi, and reuniting with family and friends in a familiar setting, we are at home.
Just two days ago, the lilies were still fully closed. Today only a few remain unopened. They are coming into their time of glory. I am aware of this with a special appreciation. I realize that it was this tender gratitude that stopped me in the doorway and brought me back. This year, the year of COVID-19, the year that everything has been canceled, some things, like the blossoming of the Asiatic lilies, are right on schedule. And this year, I am home to enjoy them.
When camp was canceled, I felt like a child who had been anticipating an ice cream cone and arrived at the window to find it closed. This summer, I am finding contentment in the flavor of an assortment of lollipops that have been available all along, waiting to be unwrapped.
Are you encountering any unopened gifts? For what are you grateful this summer?
