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Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
30”x30” oil on canvas. Framed
After my dad passed away, I dug these pincushion lilies from his garden before selling his house. He grew them because my kids thought they were so whimsical—the blooms looked like little sewing pincushions covered in pins.
I tucked the roots into a pot in the garage for winter and forgot about them. The following spring, green shoots appeared. Perennials survive winter by storing energy underground, waiting for the right conditions to grow again.
I had forgotten them, but the lilies remembered.
Now they thrive in my garden—a living inheritance from my dad, planted because they once delighted my children.
30”x30” oil on canvas. Framed
After my dad passed away, I dug these pincushion lilies from his garden before selling his house. He grew them because my kids thought they were so whimsical—the blooms looked like little sewing pincushions covered in pins.
I tucked the roots into a pot in the garage for winter and forgot about them. The following spring, green shoots appeared. Perennials survive winter by storing energy underground, waiting for the right conditions to grow again.
I had forgotten them, but the lilies remembered.
Now they thrive in my garden—a living inheritance from my dad, planted because they once delighted my children.
