Dude, where are my naked ladies?

September always surprises me with its unexpected blooms. The oxblood lilies (Rhodophiala bifida), for example. I tend to forget about their existence throughout at least ten months of the year. But then August breathes its last, the calendar leaf turns over to September, and one day I look up and there they are! Blooming their little hearts out.

The oxbloods have continued to bloom profusely throughout the month, but as I was gazing at them earlier this week, it occurred to me that there was something that I was missing. Something I had forgotten in my life or in my garden.

Then, suddenly, it hit me. Where are my naked ladies?

I rushed to the bed where the Lycoris radiata live. You may call them "surprise lilies," "red spider lilies," "resurrection lilies," or even "hurricane lilies," but for me they will always be "naked ladies." That was the evocative name by which I first learned about them and it's the one that sticks with me.

  Some of my naked ladies photographed in September, 2012.

These members of the amaryllis family, native to China, send their bloom stalks up before the leaves develop, thus they are naked. Here, those blooms normally appear as if by magic in early September, often in response to heavy rains. 

Well, we haven't had too many heavy rains this year, but then we didn't have a whole lot of rain last year either but my naked ladies bloomed beautifully. This year, not so much. Not a peep from them, not a single blossom.

This is not the first year that I've had a naked lady failure. In fact, in recent years, failure has been more the norm. I was a bit surprised when they bloomed so prolifically last year. But that spoiled me and I was hoping for a repeat performance this year. Here we are almost at the end of September, though, and I have to concede that it probably just isn't going to happen.

Oh, well, just like with the Astros, it'll be "wait'll next year and hope."     

Naked ladies

If it's September, it must be time for the "naked ladies" to make their appearance. That's what many of us grew up calling members of the Lycoris clan that show up as if by magic at this time of year. The long stems from these bulbs shoot out of the ground before their foliage, seemingly overnight, and wave their colorful blossoms, especially in understory areas in the garden. These are bulbs that need sun only in winter and so they thrive under deciduous trees and shrubs where they are in shade during summer. You often see them thriving at old abandoned home sites and in cemeteries, because they are plants that, once established, require practically no care.

I planted some Lycoris bulbs in my garden three years ago because I have a fondness for these old-fashioned beauties, but they haven't bloomed for me in the last two years and I hadn't really thought about them in awhile. I was sitting in my backyard over the weekend, just staring into space, when my eyes suddenly focused on a bright spot in my line of vision.

  Yep, there she was - a "naked lady"! My first one in three years.

These plants have several common names in addition to the naked lady moniker. They are also called "spider lily" because their gangly appearance is somewhat like that of spiders and "hurricane lily" because they show up during the most active weeks of the hurricane season. Some also call them "magic lily," "resurrection lily," and, of course, "surprise lily," all for fairly obvious reasons.

I'm hoping to see more of these surprises in the garden over the next few days, because I did plant several of the bulbs. Now that the first couple of them have put in an appearance, I'm looking for the rest to show themselves soon in a gaudy march of the naked ladies!