Evening rain lily ~ Zephyranthes chlorosolen
If rain lilies forcing their way through a construction site’s packed dirt exemplify nature’s energy and exuberance, this solitary lily is pure elegance.
Blooming undisturbed and undamaged at the Brazoria Wildlife Refuge, it seemed to demand a photo session. After all, for white flower lovers, there never can be too many rain lilies.
56 thoughts on “One Lily, Two Views”
Did you detect a fragrance from this rain lily? Sometimes I do, other times not. Whether that depends on the flower, my nose, or both, remains uncertain. I’ve also noticed plenty of variation in how prominent the reproductive parts are.
I’ve never caught a hint of fragrance from a single lily. Usually, it takes a fairly large colony for the scent to be discernible. If it’s a humid, windless morning, it can be quite strong as it lingers above the flowers. As for variation, I’m constantly amazed by the number of ways in which these quite simple flowers differ from one another.
Utterly lovely. Any flower, anywhere is a source of joy.
That’s so true. Even flowers that aren’t traditionally ‘beautiful’ are complex and interesting, and so well designed for their primary purpose: making more flowers.
It’s no wonder that we love to photograph them — and to help them along, as you do.
I couldn’t agree more.
Are you getting more wildflowers now that your derecho-cleared land has had some time to develop? It’s always interesting to see what pops up at the refuges after a prescribed burn. I’ve seen fields of spider lilies, blue stars, and rattlesnake master emerge when the conditions change.
There are more goldenrod, white snakeroot, and jumpseed. The sticktights are happy. But, the garlic mustard has decreased. Plus, since the locust trees were badly damaged, there are sprouts coming up from the roots in large numbers.
More goldenrod’s always a plus in my book. I was surprised at the decrease in the garlic mustard. People always are trying to find a way to discourage that invasive. May its decrease increase!
Garlic mustard likes the partial shade areas at the edges. Our limb and tree loss seems to have disrupted some of that. Plus, we have been steadfast in pulling it out each year. Less to do this year. I’m good with that.
Lovely, pure grace!
The shape certainly has been adapted in the arts, especially art deco and art nouveau. I love the clean, simple lines.
Rain lilies are one of my favorites. My white domestic ones bloomed after the rain. The wild ones that used to grow near my house had a wonderful scent. Unfortunately, one group had a house built on it, and the other is mowed.
Construction and mowing: two insults that are hard to get over. For a while, native yellow rain lilies showed up in a couple of local spots, but I’ve not seen them this year. They were all over the yard of a blogger in the Wharton area: lucky lady.
I have never seen a wild yellow. I had some yellows in my yard and come to think about it, they have not bloomed for a couple of years. I’ll have to check them out.
I always forget they are there until a few days after and bam! there they are to remind us they exist.
That sudden appearance is part of their charm. They can attract the attention even of people who generally pay little or no attention to flowers. When they spring up in the medians around here, I’ll sometimes spot a driver at a stoplight staring at them as if to say, “What IS that?”
The power of simplicity.
I know it’s fanciful, but I’ve always thought of them as the Audrey Hepburn of flowers.
Never too many photos of something so pure and white!
That’s what I think, although I try not to impose too many on you. You should see the whole folder devoted to these beauties!
I love lilies of all varieties. I think it’s their grace and elegance that appeal to me.
Now, if only these came in blue — that would be a flower that really would claim your admiration!
Beautiful – there could never be too many!
That’s how I feel when the bluebonnets and Indian paintbrush cover our land. The fact that these are so unpredictable makes their appearance even more delightful, whether a few or a few hundred appear.
It’s hard to think o them as ephemera but compared to perennials and such as trees, they are. What a lovely dialog, though. God says rain, and the earth says rain lilies.
In human terms, call and response shows up everywhere from worship to work crews — even sea shanties use the form. It’s fun to think of the world at large demonstrating the same responsiveness in rain and rain lilies. There surely are other examples: the call of the moon and the movement of the tides come to mind.
Beautiful indeed! The pure white color only adds to its elegance.
It’s always fun to find a ‘perfect’ flower in bloom. The simple form and pristine whiteness are even more striking when no bug has shown up to nibble on those petals.
Pure elegance, indeed. An a welcome sign as their appearance signals that the earth has taken a deep and satisfying drink of water.
That’s right. What’s especially fun about them is that they often stand as proof of rain. When I went to the refuge, I’d been wondering if any of our recent storms had watered that land, since the radar hadn’t indicated it. When I found rain lilies scattered around, there was no question that at least some rain had come.
I’m glad you had such visible and attractive proof of rain. Maybe the rain lilies are earth’s smile in response to life-giving moisture.
That’s a pleasing thought — one that makes perfect sense to me!
Two excellent compositions, such an elegant flower.
Thanks, Tom. I think ‘elegant’ is just the right word. Even its little seed packets are simple and attractive. The Arkansas Native Plant Society posted an article about the flower generally; if you scroll down a bit, there’s a good photo of the seed pods and seeds.
Just gorgeous. Simple. Delicate. Pure.
And short-lived, too. I was pleased to find this one at the height of its bloom, before it had incurred damage from insects or begun to fade. My impression is that these last only a day or two before those pretty petals begin to fold.
I read a comment, maybe yours, that the lily reminded one of art deco. I agree. The lily is so lovely and pure it needs not added leaves. Haunting photo!
There’s no need to gild this lily, is there? It’s perfect just as it is: a delight for the eye and for the spirit.
As both images bespeak, the rain lily is indeed elegant. Two lovely images, Linda.
Thanks, Steve. When I found this one, I thought it came close to representing the very essence of ‘rain lily,’ and there was nothing for it but to try making a photo or two.
You did it proud.
It is always a pleasant surprise to find rain lilies in bloom. It shouldn’t be. They are pretty reliable bloomers following a good amount of rain. And usually in the same places. I guess because they only offer a glimpse of their elegance for a short time and then disappear, I am surprised to see one.
One lily, two views. Never enough. Always a joy.
Your photographs clearly demonstrate why we love this small plain flower.
I wonder if they’re more common, or at least more predictable, in your area. Around here, although they’re just as liable to pop up in the hill country as on Galveston Island, they seem quite unpredictable. I suppose everything from temperature to soil moisture to the wretched mowers make a difference from place to place. On the other hand, I’ve gotten the impression that in central Texas they’re more apt to show up in large colonies.
In any event, they’re simple, they’re white, they often host cute little bugs, and they smell good. What’s not to like?
I am always ready to admire a lily, Linda, and you did this one justice. Did it live up to its name and come after a rainfall?
It sure did. It takes a few days for them to appear, but it’s always rain that brings them into bloom. There’s some variation in the timing, but a few days seems common — and they never pop up until after a rain. On the other hand, our cenizo, aka the ‘barometer bush,’ always blooms before rain. It seems to be the rising humidity that triggers it. Many people consider the barometer bush a silly myth, but I believe!
Thanks, Linda. And if you believe, I believe.
I love it when the rain lilies pop up all over the shop yard.
Their beauty is equaled only by their unpredictability. That they’ll arrive is a given, but exactly where or when isn’t always so clear!
Beautiful! Nature’s persistence brings us so much to enjoy.
It sure does. And no matter how many lilies or meadowlarks or golden larches we see, we’re always ready for more.
What a beauty! I have potatoes coming through builders concrete and rubble here. Some plants sure are determined.xxx
I like to call them ‘accidental gardens,’ although the ‘accidental’ aspect is from the human perspective. The plants around us may know precisely what they’re doing! I’ve seen things like silverleaf nightshade grow up through asphalt at road edges. ‘Determined’ is just the right word.