She Works Hard

Observations visitors shared with me on the farm

After I check out a visitor to the farm and pass their order along to Colt, there is usually a period of waiting before all their flowers are dug.

That's when the real action starts.

Most days, my 11-year-old stepdaughter, Lily, joins in to help us. In the past, she loved sitting with her Aunt Donna, putting the twist ties on the tags we attach to each bag.

But this year, she has moved up in the ranks.

Now, she likes driving the Mule—our side-by-side—as she and Colt race around the farm gathering each order. She puts the tags on the bags, holds them open so he can slip the plants inside, and helps keep everything moving.

They have a nice little system.

It's a system that, in a way, has been passed down. What was once Matt and Colt working side by side each season has now become Colt and Lily.

It's fun to watch them zoom around the farm together. Sometimes, I can hear her giggling in the distance after Colt says something to keep the work fun.

One day, a group of customers was sitting with me under the carport, enjoying a little breeze and some much-needed shade, when they noticed her too.

"She works hard," someone said.

There was an audible agreement from the others sitting nearby.

I smiled.

It's not the first time I've heard this. Often customers will make comments on what a great helper she is. Or what do we have to do to get her to help...

Because the truth is, Lily has always been like that.

There's something pretty cool about watching a kid who is genuinely motivated to help. She isn't expecting anything in return. Unlike her brother, this isn't a farm job she gets paid to do.

She just likes to help.

Or maybe she just likes spending time with Dad.

Probably a little bit of both.

Sometimes, I wonder if she was destined to be part of this place from the beginning.

Her name is Lily Mae.

Lily, after the daylilies.

Mae, the middle name of her grandmother, Sheila, who helped start Daylily Connection.

Lily Mae never got the chance to meet Sheila Mae.

And yet, here she is—happily buzzing around the farm she was named for, impressing people with her positive, can-do attitude.

There is a light in Lily that has always been there.

I like to think maybe she carries a little bit of Sheila's light with her, too.

And although Sheila isn't here with us, there is something special about watching Colt climb into that Mule with Lily beside him. His mom's namesake, riding along through the same farm she helped build.

Life has a funny way of bringing things full circle.

And yes, our customers are right.

She works hard.

I see it in the way she approaches her 4-H projects. I see it with our cattle. I see it in the way she cares for our cats and dog.

But lately, I've noticed something else about her.

She has started wanting to share our daylilies with people who have helped her along the way.

And she doesn't just grab any flower.

She thinks about it.

She considers the name. The color. The shape. She carefully chooses a daylily she thinks that particular person might love.

There is something so sweet about watching her make those decisions.

Because, in her own way, she understands something about these flowers that I think many of our customers understand, too.

Sometimes, you plant a daylily because it's pretty.

And sometimes, you plant one because of who it reminds you of.

You give someone a flower, they find a special place for it in their yard, and every year when it blooms, they remember.

Someone thought of me.

Someone appreciated me.

Someone cared.

She cared.

These are the things I appreciate about Lily, especially because she isn't always here with us. She could easily feel disconnected from the farm during the parts of the year when she's away.

But every time she comes back, she makes the most of it.

She jumps right in.

She leaves an impression on the people around her.

Apparently, even our customers can see it in the brief moments they spend with her.

Maybe that's why that simple comment stuck with me.

"She works hard."

Colt and I were never able to have children of our own. For a long time, I imagined having a couple of little boogers running around here—growing up on a farm and learning things I never would have imagined learning as a town kid.

Life didn't quite work out that way for us.

But there are moments when I watch Lily racing across the farm with her dad, hear her giggling from somewhere between the rows of daylilies, or see her carefully choosing a flower for someone she appreciates, and I realize that life can still give us little pieces of the things we once imagined.

She has a mom, and she isn't my baby.

But I get the privilege of loving her.

And when she's here—showing up, helping out, laughing with her dad, and being the farm kid I once pictured running around this place—that little hole in my heart feels a little less empty.

So, to the customers sitting under the carport that day:

I agree.

She works hard.

But what you probably couldn't see from where you were sitting is just how much heart she puts into it, too.

And whether she ever realizes it or not, Lily Mae carries a pretty big piece of this farm with her.

I have a feeling she always will.