I knew where Smoky Mountain Autumn was supposed to be, but there were no green shoots above ground. I dug a hole over a foot wide and six inches deep to finally find three shrivelled tubers.
One of my favorite daylilies had been reduced to this. It must have been a deer favorite, too.

I consider this another in a long line of metaphors for my life. I have thought of my dear friend Sandra many times this week. We had long discussions about adapting to change after her husband died. We could not foresee that her first year of widowhood would be her last year of life. We who loved them both would have to adapt again.

I am not one to immediately embrace change, but I am a realist. Change is sometimes forced. Move or lose what is left is the lesson.

Smoky Mountain Autumn has a chance to survive now that it has been relocated and protected. One of its other daylily neighbors totally disappeared. That fate would have been repeated by more every year until most were obliterated.

I made the right choice. With every choice comes some loss. It is a matter of deciding what one is willing to lose in order to maintain or gain something else.

Someday, if we’re are careful and lucky. We will see blooms again on this remnant of a life. That restoration will be the reward.

Smoky Mountain Autumn

FLOWER