By Cheri Youngblood

This is a story about patience. I grew up in New England and I remember my Grandpa putting a trowel in my hand for the first time when I was three years old, because I wanted so badly to help him. I was blessed that when I was that age he was old enough to be retired and willing to spend his days with an adoring granddaughter. Our backyards joined at the back of our lots with a house in the middle at the front so my Mother never worried when I would run out the back door in the morning yelling that I was going to “dig in the dirt”.

Don’t I remember those endless questions Grandpa would kindly answer for me? “Grandpa, when will the apples be ripe enough to eat? When will it be time for me to help Grandma pick the currents? Can I help you pick the little tomatoes?” I was always ready to do these things, but it was not always the right time to do them. Grandpa would gently tell me things would be ready in God’s own time – not mine – no matter how badly I wanted them.

Twenty years ago, I saw a picture of an Amazon Lily in a Wayside Gardens catalogue. I thought it was just lovely and immediately ordered it. When the plant came in the mail, there was only a huge bare root in a plastic bag. I planted it according to directions – another of Grandpa’s lessons – and waited and waited and waited.

I waited 14 long years, as the lily slowly grew in my Orchid house, in the dappled sunshine of the Florida woods. For all those years there was never any more to the plant than five or six bright shiny leaves. I cannot tell you how many times I nearly tossed that plant right out the door because I was so tired of waiting, but its beautiful, shiny leaves – sparse as they were – always stopped me.

Throughout that time, I kept hearing my dear Grandpa’s voice saying, “Patience, Cheri.”

One day, all-of-a-sudden, it was like, the lily just woke up, and said “it’s time to grow”.  It started growing by leaps and bounds and in no time at all I had my first flower stalk with a cluster of five blooms.  They looked like flattened white daffodils and carried a delicate smell.

Seventeen years after I had first planted that huge root, the lily began to produce blooms, several times a year. Today it fills the corner of my living room – heaven help me if it gets much bigger –

What a wonderful lesson my Grandfather taught me all those years ago. How necessary it is in life to be patient, not only with plants but with others and ourselves.  If we are patient, we will see a flowering beauty all around us. Thank you, Grandpa!

Cheri Youngblood, a Master Gardener in the Capital City Master Gardener Association since 2014, lives in Montgomery. For more information on becoming a master gardener, visit www.capcitymga.org or email capcitymga@gmail.com.