You might call them surprise lilies.

My mom’s mom loved flowers. Every flower that she could find grew in her yard in expansive flower beds, border gardens, around the foundation, along the path to the garden – if it was fallow soil, flowers were growing in it. My mom had an equal love of flowers, but not the time to nurture and fuss over the plants. Mom preferred perennials and low maintenance bulbs and bushes.

Mom and Grandma called their flowers and plants by locally-known names, not necessarily the widely-accepted names among horticulturalists and landscaping centers. Some of the names they used were down right embarrassing.

For many years, my mom and her friend Dorie kept the baby nursery during the Sunday School hour at our church. My mom had given lily bulbs to Dorie, hoping that she could get them to grow in her yard. After several years of no success, Dorie had just about given up on having the lilies bloom in her yard.

One hot, July Sunday my mother was chatting with a young couple who was visiting the church for the first time. They had brought their precious baby to the nursery and my mom was assuring them that their child would receive the best care. Dorie came into the building, heard my mother’s voice and called out as she climbed the stairs to the nursery, “Doris Jean! Doris Jean! I looked out my window this morning and you know what I saw in my yard? Three naked ladies!”

Seeing the young couple with their mouths agape, Dorie didn’t miss a beat. She looked at them with accomplished aplomb and said, “You might call them surprise lilies.”

I always think of my mom and Dorie when I see our naked ladies, which were blooming this week.