Four separate varieties of Daylily greet this sultry June morning—pale peach, bright yellow, tiger striped purple and blazing orange. Each one is given only a day to live, and yet they explode with joy at the living of it on my little hill.

So happy they are to find their beauty set off by Queen Anne in the midst of her tea party. She has invited all of lacy white dressed up ladies in Richmond, it seems. They rest on a bed of sedums that are getting ready to turn the ground lavender.

The gathering is just enticing enough to coax reticent Iris along to show off her ruffles, wallflower that she is. She missed her own spring party. Her other Iris buddies began showing up indecently early in April instead of their usual May. But now, she sits on the edge of this well attended affair, all white and lavender herself, with a sweet scented heart of deep purple, no less royal than Anne and her maids in their lacy finery.

And speaking of lavender! Atop the hill the birdbath is dressed in a crinolined skirt of fragrant, long stemmed lavender in bloom—a skirt so attractive that the bees simply can’t keep their hand off it. Mr. Robin tangles with the Sparrow family to taste her watery kisses.

Queen Elizabeth Rose is making a show of it in the front garden down below, surrounded as she is by her Rosemary and Sage servants, she burst forth with a crown of cottony pink blooms there by the side walks edge. She taunts Anne with her privileged placement.

Meanwhile, sweet Rose of Sharon, Daisy and stalwart Black Eyed Susan hold down the other corner. They thrive on the underground water supplied by the upper rain garden now covered in Coneflower and Milkweed, twisty Horsetail, Gardenia and Camellia. I do hope the ladybugs will arrive soon to carry off the aphids that threaten the Milkweed. I so long for the grand and most royal of them all—the Monarch Butterflies—to arrive.

Only three years ago this bit of earth was none but an eyesore—overgrown crabgrass and weeds of ever kind. And now a regal gathering fawns at my door. Who would have guessed—especially me, and the bees—that such abundance could be mine?

© JEHW 2017