My Asiatic lilies are huge and glorious, but almost done. To keep them lovely as long as possible though, I deadhead, sometimes twice daily. I fit my fingers to the blossom’s bottom, and pinch it off. (It’s easy to tell who’s washed up. A finished flower develops transparent, wrinkled skin. Further along in the morning petals lose strength, and the entire blossom falls.) Daily bottom-pinching means the petals and elongated seed- ‘plant poop’- won’t litter the garden floor. Madame can then concentrate on showing off her remaining blooms.
Many gardeners position these beauties behind other flowers, because they’re tall, and are boring in their ‘down’ time, but I’ve put them right along the path for maximum impact. Though they have little or no scent, their stunning colors shout summer, up close and personal. These slim, social flowers look best when introduced in groups of 5-7: odd numbers are less- soldierly. And next summer there’ll be more to enjoy. The kids will be nestled too close to their parents, though, so relocate them a little way off.
Don’t skimp on food. Lilies perform magnificently if they have a deep, nutrient-rich bed, regular moisture, and frequent liquid foliar feedings, which are absorbed instantly. (Granular food, triggered only by regular watering, takes weeks to be effective.)
Lily-underpinnings can get messy, so I reach in between the stalks to pull away any less-than-pretty leaf. Tidying their nether regions keeps them looking their best.
To get maximum bang, give lilies full sun. Offer less, and you’ll get less; growth is retarded, enthusiasm flags, and bud count drops. Annoyed plants show their displeasure by leaning toward the light; take the hint and transplant them.
When the last lovely flower droops and dies, I cut the ‘candelabra’ away, but stifle the urge to chop the enormous stalks to the ground. Bulbs need to store sun power and chlorophyll for more spectacular flowers next season, so I wait a long time (2 months), until their stalks turn completely yellow. Then I cut, leaving three-inch stumps for quick location next spring.
About now, though, unless there’s a plan in place to distract a viewer, my lily areas can be pretty boring. I found some ways to smooth the awkwardness, though.
I plant lantana among the towering stalks early in the season; this delightful annual loves to weave in and around the lilies, and its multicolored blossoms are intriguing.
Licorice, a low-to-the-ground annual, helps, too: those long, frosted silver fingers weave around the base of lily’s head-chopped stalks. And sometimes, if there’s enough space, I plant annual thread-leaved daisies among the stem-poles, charming visitors, who overlook the lilies ripening quietly.
I grow giant, sun-loving canna lilies nearby. These eight-foot high giants are ready to grab the spotlight just when I need them. A mini-forest of startling tropical towers really draws the eye away from old news; vivid orange and red blossoms perch atop stately countenances, bringing gazes up. Canna leaves are green, striped, or rich purple, and could shade a 5-year old. (Warning: don’t put them into the ground until well into June. A hint of frost, and they’re toast.)
Loosely grouped Asian lilies’ ripening stalks can serve as supports for vines, like potted morning glories. Or, if you happen to have a clematis growing nearby, allow some of its very long tendrils to clamber up and through them.
Though seasonally finished, these boring remnants can still be useful for a long time.