The Orange Daylily has been part of my outdoor life since I was a kid. It bordered many of the somewhat rural, winding roads of my older suburban hometown and was a prominent feature of the roadside entry to the swim club of my youth. My friends and I had a couple of names for them – Wood Lily and Tiger Lily – both of which were incorrect and actually refer to other plants. The more accepted name is the unglamorous term Ditch Lily. The horticultural equivalent of “a hot mess”.

When we purchased our 1913 house in the winter of 1992, I knew that we had three botanical treasures – an antique Winesap Apple, a massive Shumard Oak, and perhaps the best Southern Magnolia specimen in horticultural zone 6b. I bought the trees, the photographer bought a quaint house with Craftsman features. The following spring and summer, as other plants announced their presence – Mock-orange, Passion Vine, Clematis, Crepe-myrtle, and numerous spring ephemeral wildflowers in a small woodland behind our garage , we knew that we had struck garden gold. Our new neighbors informed us that an avid gardener had lived in our house for over fifty years. Due to her amendment of the soil, I could dig in the flower beds with the heel of my boot.

Amongst the treasures was a grouping of my childhood friend, the Ditch Lily. It’s location was not ideal as we could not appreciate it from the house, so we moved it to a prominent position near the drip line of the Magnolia – a beautiful pairing.

We now have it in several pocket locations in our garden and enjoy it immensely. While its display is fleeting, it is dramatic.

But now the reality – while it was “native” to my childhood, it is not native to North America. In fact, to some it is considered invasive as it can outcompete native species. But that label has to be interpreted with some nuance. The Ditch Lily is generally considered to be sterile, meaning that it does not form seeds, and therefore unlikely to spread distantly. This is thought to be due to a remote and unusual mutation that resulted in its having three sets of chromosomes, which typically renders an organism sterile. The condition meant that it would need to rely on root cuttings to reproduce, and therefore was largely spread by human behavior. The Ditch Lily, and its reproduction through plant division, was embraced in 17th century Europe and later North America. As a result, in the field of archeology, the presence of a grouping of Ditch Lilies suggests the possible site of an old homestead, meaning someone planted them.

Compared to many non-natives, it is thought that Ditch Lilies provide little sustenance to our local wildlife, but some authorities are questioning that assumption. Deer will feed on it if other food sources are lacking, and this year I noted that several Ditch Lily buds in our garden were consumed by deer. The ant in the photo below is probably pursuing some nectar.

So why do I find allure in the Ditch Lily? Part of it is undoubtedly the reminiscence of my time outdoors as a youth. But as a gardener, it has a real usefulness in landscaping difficult to maintain areas – like a hillside or a ditch. Its dense habit does a great job in keeping down weeds and it does not need mulching. And certainly, its the three week display each June is remarkable for their simple beauty.

Photos by Patrick Burns.