Category: Memoir

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Daylilies

Two wild daylilies, remnants of another blooming season, stood in solitude near the highway.  Traffic and noises were all irrelevant to their existence.  Their orange flowers echo the brightness of the midsummer sun.  I had an urge to stop traveling and to get closer to them.

It seems that there are more varieties of cultivated daylilies showing up in nurseries every year.  Other than plentiful sunshine, they do not ask for much care.  Easily, they win the hearts of gardeners.  From pale yellow to dark maroon, they illuminate gardens large and small.

I, however, am privy to the old-fashioned orange ones.  Cultivation of 萱草was documented in Han 漢dynasty (200 BC).  It symbolizes motherly love, which soothes one’s anxiety.  Hence, it is also known as “forget-sorrow” 忘憂草.  Traditionally, 北堂 (northern hall) means women’s residence.  The term 北堂萱草 appears often in Chinese literature.  In addition to its symbolic and literary significance, daylilies are also known for their medicinal and nutritious values.  In Chinese herbal medicine, it is used as digestive, antitoxin and antidepressant.

One summer day, mom put an interesting dish on the table.  Mixed with chicken, there were some flower buds.  Mom said that they were young 金針 (golden needles).  We had golden needles in the garden but never picked them.  Mom explained that only the unopened buds were good to eat.  Since we liked to enjoy the flowers, it wouldn’t be a good idea to pick them.

Fresh golden needles are a far cry from the dried ones in hot-and-sour soup.  Instead of stringy and slightly acidy, they are sweet and crunchy.  Since coming to the States, I haven’t seen fresh golden needles on the market, not in regular grocery stores, not in farmers market, and not even in Chinese stores.  Every time I saw a field of wild daylilies, I always wondered why no one would harvest the flower buds.

In recent years, large-scale cultivation of daylilies combined with tourism has improved economic opportunities for farmers in Eastern Taiwan.  From July to September, hills and valleys are blanketed by golden orange flowers.  Bed-&-breakfasts are booked months in advance.  Productions of fresh and dried golden needles continue to grow.

Glory to daylilies!

Travel information for daylily blooming season:
Liushishi Mountain-East Rift Valley

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I finti fiori

I went to the garden after the rain.  The tiny blue petals of dayflowers seemed more resplendent than usual.  Their vines and leaves spread on the grounds, stretching beyond the edge of the terrace.  Considered “noxious” and “invasive” by many, they are welcome guests in my garden.

I first encountered these small jewels when I was in high school.  One day I saw a patch of dayflowers sprawled along a ditch on the roadside.  The color of the flowers caught my eyes.  I was also amused by the smallness of them.

Our school was in the suburb of Taipei on a hill near the National Palace Museum.  Every year, as courtesy, we were invited to visit the Museum.  There, I found dayflowers on a handscroll among other “auspicious” species: peonies, lotus, hydrangea, magnolia, and the like.  I was mesmerized by the vividness of the image.  At the same time, the irony of roadside weeds becoming a treasure and being displayed at a Museum also didn’t escape me.  There is only a thin line between arts and reality.

When I began building a garden on our terrace a few years ago, I was surprised to see dayflowers popping up at one corner.  Effortlessly they connected my parallel lives on two sides of the ocean; my past and present.  I saw myself standing in the gallery, fixating at the painted flowers.

I love flowers.  Watching them fade and wither away saddens me.  I am not good at keeping their images with paint brushes.  I was good at making silk flowers in my teen years: cutting leaves and petals out of ribbons; bending them by hand or pressing them with hot iron; and wrapping them onto wires.  Petal by petal; leaf by leaf; stem by stem; beautiful flowers would grow out my hands.  The exuberant dyes made them more vivacious then the real ones.

I loved making peonies.  They were flowers that I only read in classic literature. They were flowers that I only saw in paintings and photos.  With ribbons, I could bring them into reality.  Out of my fingers, amazing things happened.

These days, I grew peonies in my garden: classical crimson ones and pale pink “Mrs. F. D Roosevelt.”  In late spring, the buds gradually grow rounder and fuller.  As they quietly unwrap, gentle fragrances fill the air.  And, I know that they will come back year after year.

“Ma i fior ch’io faccio, ahimè!
Non hanno odore. . .”

“But the flowers that I make, alas!
Don’t have fragrance. . .”
Mimì in Puccini, La Bohème, Act 1

YouTube: “A Collection of Spring Fortune” 春祺集錦 by Wang Chengpei 汪承霈, Qing dynasty.
The brocade handscroll mentioned in the post is housed in the National Palace Museum in Taipei.